


We'll Stay Up Late and Howl

by megyal



Series: Strange Medicine [2]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M, Supernatural Elements, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-16
Updated: 2008-08-08
Packaged: 2017-10-28 10:50:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 36,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/307085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/pseuds/megyal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The lines that Patrick quoted are from <a href="http://www.bartleby.com/201/1.html"><i>The Waste Land</i></a> by T.S. Eliot.</p>
        </blockquote>





	1. Greed [Hungry Like A Wolf]

  
_"The timber wolves will be our friends._  
We'll stay up late and howl,  
At the moon, till nighttime ends,  
Before going on the prowl."  
- Bill Watterson (Calvin & Hobbes)  


_"Wolves are one of the best hunters in the animal kingdom, but one problem the wolves have is they cannot seem to be satisfied... The problem with the wolf is greed."_   
-quote source is [here](http://chinkeetan.blogspot.com/2008/01/are-you-as-hungry-like-wolf.html)

*

Matt sat in the backseat of the gently rocking car and ignored the regular fumes coming from the half-opened windows; as a matter of fact, he completely disregarded those slick smells of fuel and waste. He was busy filtering the emotions he was picking up through his nose, right here in this big vehicle.

There was Joe's particular smell of worry, but it was tinged with that kind of cheerful optimism that was simply the core of who Joe was; things were bad _now_ , that was true; but Joe was apparently a firm believer in the sun coming out tomorrow. Pete's scent was tightly drawn, like a cloak pulled securely around hunched, tensed shoulders, but a sense of mourning managed to seep out, smelling as if Pete had found out his best friend had been killed, which, in a way, he had. Other emotions were mixed in: Unhappiness. Desperation. Sheer fury.

Matt fought down the urge to whine a little and lick Pete's hand in commiseration, but that could happen later. He was good at comforting members of the pack, and he knew the right time to do it; now just wasn't the right time, but it would be, soon enough.

Patrick was fast asleep beside him and resting his head on Matt's shoulder. He looked very much the same, small and unassuming, and the expression currently on his face was one of dark exhaustion… but his scent was strange. It still smelled like him, mostly, but... but _different_ , as if someone had poured something into the vessel that contained Patrick's soul, diluting it. He could also pick up that lethal warning the vampire had stamped all over Patrick. It was as if someone was snarling ceaselessly, _this human is not to be touched. To touch or harm this human who belongs to the House of McCoy is to die painfully_. Matt understood that this warning was pulsating from almost a psychic level, but his wolf mind was simply translating it in the best way it could.

And then there was Andy; this was the set of smells that interested him the most, mainly because they were the ones Matt really wanted to wallow in. He and Andy had quit sniping at each other after Joe had turned around from the front passenger-seat and told them to _shut the hell up, let Patrick get some sleep and Pete concentrate on getting them home_ , but Matt still kept his face turned slightly in Andy's direction. Andy was sitting on the other side of Patrick, glaring out of his own window, a line furrowed deeply between his eyebrows.

Matt thought that little violent ninja-dude smelled like fucking _heaven_. It was like having all the things one liked to eat in the same room, spread out on a long dining table to choose and devour. He just wanted to bury his nose right in the curve of Andy's neck and inhale all night. There was fury peeling from Andy as well, but it wasn't the same type that came from Pete. Matt's nostrils flared greedily, inhaling that familiar, exquisite scent that he loved so much, smiling a little as Andy turned his head and narrowed his eyes at him. Matt's smile grew Cheshire-large, and he sniffed again, long and delightedly.

Andy's face contorted; he looked as if he would love nothing more than to pull his sword and plunge it right into Matt's chest. Matt had an idea that if Patrick wasn't snoozing between them, he would have surely tried; but Matt could smell him, smell _all_ of him, and not everything was made up of that freezing anger.

Oh, no sirree. Far from it.

Matt kept grinning and Andy cut his eyes away, going back to stare out his window.

*

The black wolf padded down the corridor from the basement door, where it had been spending time with the one who had cool skin. This one was an alpha too, but he was no threat to the wolf and what _belonged_ to the wolf. As a matter of fact, the wolf liked the cold alpha very much, and had lain beside him as he had sat silently on the chilly, hard floor with his legs crossed. His fingers had been curled in the wolf's coarse fur, tugging gently now and again; the wolf had endured it, because this cool-skinned one had needed him to just lie there with his muzzle on his paws, and keep quiet. The others had been upstairs, sometimes pressed against the door at the top of the staircase, their anxiety threading under the doorway and floating down to the wolf's nose. The one who didn't belong to the cool-skinned alpha anymore, the broken one, had spent a very long time at that door, far longer than the others, just standing there and worrying.

The wolf had pressed closer to the cold one, until that other had finally gone away.

Then the cold one had said: "Okay, Mix, I'm good."

The wolf, which knew that these humans called it Mix when it was like this, and something else when it was walking on two legs, had gotten up immediately; it licked the cold hand of the human who wasn't really a human at all, and clambered up the stairs ahead of him, waiting for him to open the heavy wooden door. He still smelled of sadness and distress and a barely controlled anger, but he wanted to be left alone now and Mix understood.

Now, the wolf trotted past the door which had all the very strange smells; Mix sneezed quickly and hurried past. Those smells weren't for wolves. Those smells were for helping the cold one. The broken one was behind the heavy wooden door. Mix could remember that once, this broken one had smelled a little like the cold alpha. Maybe they had been mates.

Didn't matter anymore, for now the broken one smelled a lot different.

Aha! Mix padded into the room for the food and saw one of his favourite pack-mates standing near a window; Mix barked happily and rushed over to him. This human made a rolling, cheerful sound, and Mix remembered that all this show of teeth did not mean that the human was going to attack. It just meant that he was happy now, and was glad to see Mix.

The wolf flopped over to lay down on its side, looking up at the human, who obliged it by kneeling close and rubbing briskly along its belly and legs.

Good, that was a good pack-mate. Mix stood up and rested his head briefly on the human's shoulder, snuffling affectionately in the curly fur on top of the happy one's head before making his way out the other side of the feeding-place. He turned and looked back at the pack-mate, who was staring at him quizzically.

"What, Mix?"

Mix gave a short _whuf_ of a bark and ran a little ahead; he turned back and went to the human who hadn't been following, barked sharply again, _come follow now_ , and then loped out again when he was sure the human was obeying. The wolf led him up down a wide corridor, and stood expectantly in front of a particular door.

"Oh, okay, this is where I say _no_ , Mix. Hurley would slay me."

Mix pawed at the door and stared at it. The human was still standing there and Mix could smell his uncertainty. If he didn’t open the door, Mix would hold onto him with his teeth until he did.

Mix's mate was behind this door, and this little mate of his would not open it earlier when Mix had been out here in this same corridor, begging shamelessly. Mix had even howled to be let in, but his mate was very stubborn and very angry with him. Mix had tried to push the door open; he had even gone into his other form, but the door had been closed to his touch. He hadn't been able to open it.

But this human could.

"You know what?" His curly-haired pack-mate said in an amused voice. "I'm gonna let you in. Just don't tell him I did, cool?"

The human placed a bare paw on a black surface beside the door. A strange light went red, and then green and the door clicked open. Mix looked up at the human briefly, and then stepped inside.

In here _reeked_ of metal. Mix didn't like it much in here, there was too much silver and too many sharp edges; but he had never been harmed in here before, so he felt fairly safe, despite the way his hackles went up at all those glinting surfaces. There was much more of it now; when he used to live here before, most of the metal sharp things were kept in a special dark place nearby. His mate had placed them out there so that Mix would be comfortable in here. When he had left, his mate had brought them inside here, obviously.

Well, _obviously_ he would have to move them out again. Mix was here to stay.

His mate was standing at an opposite end, and the rage pouring off him was almost palpable.

"What are you doing in here? Who let you in?"

Mix disregarded his growls for the moment. He went slowly around the room, sniffing at neat stacks of clothing, turning over a random shoe. There was no other invading scent, wolf or otherwise. Satisfied, Mix rolled around in the clothes, toppling the stacks and ignoring the sputtering of his mate; he slunk along the walls and objects in the room, pressing his own trace against the surfaces. Any other wolf that came in here would know that this room, silver and all, was Mix's exclusive territory. He would have made a more serious display of it, but then his mate would just be even more upset; Mix didn't want him more displeased than he was now.

He trotted across to his human, meaning to press against his leg, but his stubborn mate was holding out one of those long, metal sharp things, glaring down its gleaming edge at Mix.

"Fuck off," his mate said in a freezing voice. "Get the hell out."

Mix sat back on his haunches and whined a little. This always worked to soften his mate and true to form, the metal thing in his hands trembled just the tiniest bit, his control wavering.

_Now_ , Mix thought, and began to give over control of his essence to that other side of him, the part that went on two legs. The wolf feinted to one side and then pounced, feeling its body ripple through the Change.

The sword clattered to the ground and Andy's initial yell of surprise descended into snarls of rage as the force of Matt's lunge caused them to bounce on the bed.

"Fucker," Andy growled, trying to writhe from under Matt's considerable weight. "You're bare-ass naked, get the hell off me."

"Calm down." Matt grinned down at his wrathful face. Andy was mad mostly because he had dropped his sword; a sacrilege for someone with his kind of training, but Matt had always been just a bit too fast for him. "Come on, now, baby, stop--"

He inhaled a great, strangled breath as Andy's knee came up between his legs and jammed right against his balls. Ahh fuck, that hurt _so much_ ; he tumbled from atop Andy and curled around himself, cupping his nuts with one hand and groaning in pain. Andy snapped into a roll, trying to escape off the edge of the bed, but Matt whipped a hand, grasping one pale ankle and yanking him back.

Andy's instant reaction to this was to struggle with a controlled intensity, just as Matt knew he would, but Andy's particular talent lay in the speed and accuracy of weapons in his hands and not in very close combat. All the same, he came very close to throwing Matt off at one point. Matt grabbed him by the wrists, pinned them over his head and then just straddling him over his stomach as Andy twisted and yanked. Andy's face was practically purple with fury; he despised it when Matt used his strength against him like this.

"Alright now," Matt wheezed, fighting down the agonizing waves radiating from his crotch. "Alright now, Hurley, that was maybe too much fun for one night."

"I can give you a lot more than fun," Andy retorted and then rolled his eyes as Matt leered down at him. "Fuck you."

"Oh, dude, we'll get to that, don't worry." He bent his head to sniff at that delicious neck and Andy actually _snapped_ at him, teeth bared. If Matt hadn't pulled away using all the speed he could, Andy would have probably torn a flap of flesh from his cheek.

Matt stared down at him incredulously. "Hurley. Hey, I don't know if you noticed, but you nearly ripped my face off. With your teeth. That's kinda like my job, you know?"

"Yeah?" Andy glowered up at him. "I got plenty more where that came from, you go on fucking around with me."

Matt blinked down at him, and then felt a slow smile bloom across his face. "Aw, baby. You always did know how to get me all hard."

Andy frowned terribly, but Matt adjusted his hold on his wrists until he was grasping them both in just one hand; he used his free one to pluck the glasses from the bridge of Andy's nose and place them carefully on the nearby night-table. Then he grasped Andy's face, turning away those dangerous teeth until the curve of his neck was exposed. Matt just plunged his face in, inhaling ravenously, rubbing his nose and lips against the skin.

Andy arched up against him, trying vainly to push him away, but the lithe body pressed up in a curve that seemed to be part resistance and part impatient want, at least to Matt's wishful thinking. Matt buried his face against that wonderful neck just a little more, wanting to take all of him in. It had been so _long_ , and he had been so far, but now he was back and he was reclaiming what was his.

All his. Nobody else's. He'd kill anyone who wanted to take what was his away. He wanted more of this, and he could hardly stop himself.

"I can smell you, remember, you more than anybody else," he said right into Andy's ear; Andy instantly flopped back against the surface of the bed, going completely still. Playing dead, which didn't appeal to the wolf at all. Matt nudged the side of Andy's face with his nose, wondering if he was going to lash out and try to bite again, but Andy didn't move.

Slowly, he released his grip on Andy's wrists and sat up, staring down at Andy's now completely placid face. He fucking hated when Andy just locked down like this. It made the wolf all anxious and irrational.

"I can still smell you," he finally told the still form. "I know you're as hard as I am, I can feel it."

Andy still didn't move, his head turned to one side. His hair was fanned out around his head, a russet halo against the light blue of his sheets, appearing utterly serene; but Matt felt his awareness tighten. Matt bent back down to mutter in his ear.

"I can _smell_ you. You're hard and… _leaking_ , just a little, but I can smell it."

" _Fuck_ ," Andy rasped and his hands came down from where they had still lain above his head, pressing his palms flat against Matt's bare chest, probably to push him away again, but Matt wasn't having any of that. Matt grabbed onto his hands and planted them firmly on his own hips. Then he grasped onto Andy around the waist and neck and turned them both over, making sure to start kissing him just as they rolled.

Andy had always been distracted by that move.

He was on his back, holding Andy close and kissing the hell out of him. Andy struggled for a long moment and then reluctantly began to give in. It was mostly because he was on top, given dominance. The wolf had allowed this quite freely, because it had wanted its mate to relax, to give him a chance to feel comfortable again.

Matt waited, simply holding him, one hand weaving into the long hair and tugging, just a little, angling his head for slower, deeper kisses, languid in their pace and intent.

Andy's grudging capitulation suddenly dissolved into a whirl of angry kisses and gripping hands, clearly not wanting to be lulled into something slow and sensual. Matt groaned as short nails raked down his shoulders and sides.

Andy tore his mouth away and hissed at him, "You want this? Fine, you're getting a _fuck_. That's _all_ you're getting out of me, you mangy shit."

"Fine by me, but don't act as if you're not _hurting_ for it," Matt snapped in return, feeling his temper start up. He clamped down on it firmly, not wanting to let the wolf take back complete control, not right now; but _damn_ if Andy never failed to press the right buttons in order to piss him off.

Andy sat back on top of him without a response, unbuttoning his shirt in rapid, jerky movements. Matt wanted to let his nails lengthen a little into claws, to shred the material from his skin, but the last time he had been so impatient, he had left four very long, albeit fairly shallow scars in the skin of Andy's chest.

Andy had not been amused.

He fumbled for the buttons on Andy's jeans, but had his hands slapped away for his troubles. Andy tossed away his shirt and Matt's eyes ran quickly over his skin, making sure that no other harmful-appearing marks had come into existence during his absence. All he could see was the familiar riotous display of tattoos, some new, but he could check a little better.

As soon as Andy had rolled off him to struggle out of his jeans and boxers, Matt was upon him, tearing the clothing out of his hands and flinging them away. He knelt over Andy again, bending down to run the tip of his nose over the curve of one shoulder.

"What's this?" he snarled upon finding a recently healed wound concealed by a tattoo. "Who did this?"

"Vampire, of course." Andy's response was flat. "Why do you care?"

Matt disregarded this last and found another nearer to one nipple. This had healed so well that there was barely a mark. Patrick's skills at work, he sure was grateful for that; but Matt could sniff out where the area was newer than the surrounding skin and flesh, very discernible from the ink which covered it. "And this one?"

"Are you going to fuck me or not," Andy said in an almost bored monotone. "Let's just get this out of the way, get it out of our systems and you can go back to wherever you ran off to in the first place. I have things to do. Swords to sharpen."

"Yeah?" Matt grinned against his chest, pressing his hips down. He could feel the sticky dribble of precome from his own dick smearing against the crease of Andy's thigh. The smell of Andy's arousal was almost overwhelming and Matt wound his way down his body until he reached the source of that musky, mouth-watering smell, that flushed, rigid cock. "Who says I'm going anywhere?"

He placed a long kiss on that cock. "Hello, I missed you so much," he murmured fondly; it twitched in response, and he licked it out of sheer delight. He glanced up and saw that Andy had come up onto his elbows, watching him. His face was impassive, or it tried to be. Matt grinned up at him and licked right along that warm silky flesh again.

"Get on with it," Andy said in a strangled voice.

"Will do, _mon capitan_ ," Matt replied jovially, but the wolf was so eager and voracious, he could hardly stand it. "Turn over."

Andy stared at him, eyes sharp. "Back off a little, then," he finally said. Matt did so, biting down a satisfied groan as Andy turned over and settled down again, head pillowed on his folded arms, his face turned away. "Well?"

Matt was all over him in a flash, trailing his tongue down the shallow channel of his spine, mapping the indentation of his waist, the curves of his hips. Matt couldn't get enough, going from that secretive hollow behind his ears to under his armpits to behind his knees, kissing and licking and sniffing and never being satisfied. Andy endured this, breathing rapidly and moving his hips in slight circles, rubbing off a little. He raised his head and reached out to the night-table, yanking open the drawer and rummaging around until he found what he was looking for.

"Here," he said, tossing the small tube down to Matt, who actually sniffed at it suspiciously after it landed near him on the surface of Andy's bed; he was still caught up a little in the mind of the wolf happily inspecting his mate to his heart's content. Lube, he realized belatedly, and snatched it up, twisting it open and squeezing a healthy amount onto his fingers as Andy shifted up to his hands and knees.

Matt felt that he would be panting with his tongue hanging out of his mouth real soon, if he didn't get inside soon enough, so he grasped onto one ass-cheek with one hand and slipped a finger of the other hand inside that cleft, stroking around the crinkled hole before sliding in. He was literally wrestling with the wolf-part of himself now, fighting for control even as he twisted his fingers and heard Andy's reluctant groans. Mix the wolf was impatient. Mix wanted to clamber on and get down to business.

"Hurley. Andy. I can't, I, _fuck_ , I want to--"

"What?" Andy turned his head to peer back at him with narrowed eyes. "What are you waiting for?"

Matt pulled back his fingers and slicked his cock rapidly, pressing the plump head of it against that hole glistening with lube and watching it stretch around the head of his cock in fascination. He felt Andy trying to relax around him, but the slick heat was still so tight and clenching and he kept sliding in, mounting him in one slow stroke.

"Wait, wait." Andy sounded as if he couldn't draw a proper lungful of air and Matt pressed his forehead against the back of his neck, trying to breathe for them both. This was probably one of the few moments in his life where he didn't feel the wolf burning to be in full control. It was sated for now, and it was happy. Complete, if he wanted to get all sappy about it.

Until the urge to thrust and rut came over him, that is.

"Okay, go," Andy said, knowing exactly when this craving would occur. He moaned for the first time, a low tremor of a sound as Matt slid nearly all the way out of him and in again. Matt ran his tongue over the pink curl of ear closest to him as his hips pumped, and he was pleasantly surprised when Andy turned his head, initiating a kiss made awkward by the angle, but which was in no way less enjoyable.

Matt ran his hands down the strong arms, feeling the muscles brace. His hands couldn't seem to stop moving, briefly threading his fingers with Andy's, which went back to being curled tightly around handfuls of the sheet after Matt released them; then he placed flat against Andy's chest, holding him close even as he thrust. One hand left this comfortable location and slid down between Andy's thighs, reaching back to cup and fondle his balls gently before wrapping his fingers around his cock.

Andy made a garbled sound and slapped one hand flat against the wall in front of him. The noise was surprisingly loud above their rhythmic panting. He then tried using the other to peel Matt's hand from around his dick; Matt pulled right out of him and before he could say anything other than a shocked inhale, and flipped him over as neat as anything, pushing his legs up and settling between them before driving in again.

Matt liked this, liked fucking him face to face, because Andy just kept looking at him with eyes blown with lust, lips parted and his hips tilting up to accept every move. Now and again he would flinch in shocked pleasure as Matt managed to drag across his prostate; the only time Andy would break the stare was when he was coming... like now, his eyelids sliding shut, face flushed red and glowing with sweat.

Matt cursed as Andy clenched around his cock, body stuttering beneath his. In a few moments, Matt had to wrap his arms around him and bury his face in his neck, stifling his howls as he came.

*

Matt grunted softly as his softened cock slipped out of Andy, pressing slow kisses against his damp temple and generally preparing for a nice long snuggle. He froze as a slender blade made its cold presence known against his neck.

"Now that _that's_ over," Andy said conversationally, "how about you get the fuck out?"

Matt spluttered. "Andy, wait, come on," but Andy kept pressing and he scrambled back almost without thinking. He paused for a moment at the very edge of the bed, just now grasping the way his skin had crawled under the edge of the knife. He glared incredulously at Andy, who had his arm stretched out, the blade almost a part of his own steady hand. "Wait. You have _silver_ in that damned blade, Hurley?"

"I might."

"You're such a shit," Matt noted, and Andy raised his eyebrows. "I mean, you wait until I _finish_ making love to you and then you drag that little knife from under your pillow and threaten to poison my ass with it. Mixed signals, maybe? I'm just sayin'."

" _Making love_ , wow. Get out." Andy threw the blade up in the air and caught it, adjusting his grip to a throwing position. Matt blinked at him, but Andy simply began to raise his hand, even though he was moving a bit slower than usual. Matt immediately transformed, jumping off the bed and rushing towards the door. There was a _thwip_ and the knife struck the little green button beside the door, causing it to unlock with a _click_ , and the door itself to pop open a few inches. Mix pawed it further open quickly, and scattered out, sliding a bit as another knife lodged itself in the doorjamb just as his tail cleared it.

There was a pause and then the door slammed in Mix's face. He regained his human form, sprawled naked in the corridor, staring at the door.

"Um. Matt?"

Matt turned his head to look up at a worried Patrick, who was also blushing to the roots of his hair at Matt's lack of clothing.

"He threw knives at me," he observed in the hushed tones of a man who has just experienced the improbable.

Patrick looked sympathetic, even though his face was still red. "Yeah, he does that. A lot."

Matt grinned impishly, and the abrupt nature of this probably weirded Patrick out a little, because now he looked confused. Matt would just have to figure out a way to get back into Andy's room, because he definitely wanted more and more and more. That wouldn't be easy… but it would certainly be interesting.

"Oh man! Never a dull moment!" he said cheerfully and got to his feet; he sauntered nakedly in the direction of the kitchen, whistling loudly.

It was fucking _awesome_ to be home.


	2. Lust

Matt strode around the large converted warehouse, bored out of his skin. He couldn't see Andy right now; he was in training with Pete in the darkened lower levels of their secure home. He couldn't go and pester Patrick, he was locked in his laboratory and all three of the above were pretty much on edge, ready to snarl and snap at the first body to interrupt; Mix would want to beat that shit down if they tried, so it was better not to tempt fate. He roamed through the kitchen, meandered around the large living area and made his way out to the back-yard.

Joe was out there, kneeling on the dusty ground and inspecting one of the traps. It lay in opened sections in front of him, and he was banging vigorously with a wrench on the door mechanism. Matt stole up behind him and peered over his shoulder.

"What's up?" he asked and Joe nearly jumped into the trap.

"Shit!" Joe turned around and looked up at him before flashing him a wide, relieved smile. "Shit, Matt, you scared me. You move about as quiet as Pete does."

" _Quieter_ , man," Matt told him with a mock-haughty sniff, and hunkered down beside him. "Dude, aren't you supposed to just fix this and not beat the shit out of it?"

"With this crap, beating the shit out of it _is_ fixing it." Joe gave the gears a few more solid blows, leaned over to look at the two large gear-wheels, and then snorted in disgust. "Ah, fuck it."

"Let me," Matt offered, snatching the wrench out of his hand. "What you need here, dude, is the superior strength and the meticulous touch of a werewolf." He aimed carefully, placing the wrench once or twice on the place where he wanted to strike and then drew back his hand one final time, bringing down the wrench again with all his strength.

Joe covered his face quickly as the mechanism shattered; bits of gear and springs flew into the air. He peeked from his fingers and shook his head. "Wow, great going, Matt. So meticulous. At least you stopped it from sticking? I give you an A for effort."

Matt wrinkled his nose, handing back the wrench. "Piece of shit trap, anyway. I could break out of any one these any day."

Joe rolled his eyes, and wryly poked a forlorn bit of metal. "Right, right, just the same way you broke out of one of my traps the very first time."

"I was coming to you guys for help! The only way I could get one of you scaredy-cat hunters out of your precious fortress was to spring one of these." He poked one of the metal bars, squinting at it.

"And the second time? The other day, when you came with us for Patrick?"

"Yeah, so that one was a mistake." Matt grinned as Joe let out peals of mocking laughter. "No, seriously. I completely forgot where you put them. It's like a fucking maze in here."

Joe laughed at him again, and got to his feet. He toed a sad half-circle of a gear. "So. You're back for good?" He strode over to another hidden trap as he spoke; Matt followed behind. "I mean, you were away for so long, we figured you weren't coming back."

"Yeah, well." Matt had an idea that when Joe said _we_ , he really meant _Andy_. "What I had to take care of was pretty serious business. So, I guess I had to stay a lot longer than I thought I should have."

"What kind of business?" Joe knelt in a seemingly random spot and gingerly poked the ground with his wrench. A trap cracked to life out of cleverly concealed grooves in the packed earth, its metal sides snapping out like a malevolent metal flytrap.

"Pack business," Matt replied and hated the way his voice had lost its usual buoyant tone and was sliding down to a growl. He couldn't help it, though. That was just the way it was sometimes. Joe turned his head a little and stared up at him for a long time, no doubt picking up the change as well. His eyebrows twitched slightly and then he smiled and shook his head.

"Oh. _That_ kind of business." Joe pressed another spot in the ground and the trap dismantled itself, the dark metal gleaming dully before it disappeared back to its brooding slots in the ground. "And it's all good now, right?"

Matt spread his hands like a politician and grinned just as widely. "Come on, Troh. You know me, I handle what I handle."

"Good." Joe was looking up again, his face still appearing quite affable, but there was a hard glint in his stare. "Just... we're just hoping you won't fuck around with Andy too much anymore. Nobody else wants to say it, but I do. Get it?"

The wolf reared up, highly affronted and ready to show this pack-member his place, but Matt shushed it and nodded at Joe very seriously. "I get it, man. I get it. I never did before, wouldn't start now."

"Awesome." The hard flicker disappeared and Joe's smile became wholly delighted. "Dude, it's pretty sweet to have you home. I mean, stuff has changed and there's all this official shit but it's still pretty much the same." A raised harsh voice suddenly floated from inside the fortified building and they both looked in that direction. Joe probably couldn't hear what had been said, but Matt caught a little of it ( _you didn't have to!_ ).

Joe looked back at him, picking up just as well as he had that it was just a snippet of an argument and not the sign of some impending attack.

"Most things," he amended slowly, looking down at the wrench in his hands. "Most things are pretty much the same."

Matt nodded. "Gonna go inside," he told Joe, for that was Pete's voice he had heard cracking like dry lightning from the kitchen, which meant training was over and Andy was free to be targeted. "See you, man."

"Later," Joe said and threw the wrench in another arbitrary-seeming location, tripping another one of his traps. Matt heard him mutter darkly at it as he made his way to the door. He let Mix take over as soon as he stepped inside.

The wolf wriggled out of the weird fur of his human form, shaking a piece of it from his back leg; it always sloughed off when he changed, Mix never understood it. He slunk through the living area, making sure the two who were in the food place wouldn't see him. They were arguing and the one they called _Patrick_ was opening and slamming small doors as he prepared something to eat for the rest of the pack; he was being followed by the cold alpha Mix knew as _Pete_ , round and round the kitchen like a game for pups; now and again, Patrick would whirl on Pete, pointing in his face and Pete would back off, snarling at him, long canines exposed. There was a kind of bristling invisible barrier around Patrick, some barricade that Pete could not physically cross and that fact upset the vampire, Mix could pick it up.

They were very angry with each other, that was true, but Mix sat near one of the long chairs and sniffed deeply. Pete wanted Patrick, he realized, wanted him to distraction, wanted to take and mount and bite; but there was something different about Patrick now and Pete couldn't have him anymore; Patrick was _broken_ to him.

Yet, Patrick had that same sentiment and _that_ was what was broken about him. There was a part that wanted Pete as well, and another that didn't; and it was only a small part that actually _did_.

Pete shouted something else at Patrick, who glared at him and then went back to opening and slamming the small doors.

Mix spun around suddenly, flicking his tail out of the way even as he picked up the scent of his mate. Andy was standing at the end of the corridor that opened out into the living area, his expression severe as he looked at Pete arguing with Patrick. He was dressed in some sort of bath-robe, open at the neck in a deep _vee_ , the ends of his hair still wet from his shower; the fluffy material of his blue robe seemed incongruous against the hard planes of his chest. Mix loped jubilantly towards him, stopping in confusion when Andy backed away from him, his face twisted.

Was he hurt? Mix approached him carefully, not scenting blood from a wound but being careful just the same. Probably he was hurt on the inside; it wouldn't do to be moving all over the place like this. He must be at rest if that was the case and if he didn't, Mix would _make_ him stay quiet.

Andy said, "Mix, I told you to stay away from me," and Mix stopped again, tilting his head curiously. He couldn't understand most things his pack vocalized at him, although he tried very hard. However, he comprehended the different layers of their voices quite well. Right now, the surface of Andy's voice was very cold and forbidding, but underneath that was distrust and anger and doubt... and buried below all that, Mix became aware of an almost unwanted craving.

Mix wanted to howl in delight. He had known it, of course, but sometimes his mate made everything _so difficult_. Not that Mix didn't like that; he loved it. He loved the constant struggling and snapping, always did. It meant that his mate was worth it.

"No, no you don't," Andy was saying even as he still backed away, hand clenching at the belt of his robe as if he was searching for the hilt to some weapon. "Don't, don't, I _do not_ fucking want this anymore, don't you fucking dare."

All this was to no avail as Matt grabbed him by the shoulders and pressed him against the wall. Andy grabbed him by the left ear and _yanked_ before Matt could even think of bending close to kiss him. Matt yelled in pain and Andy swept his arms away with a quick downwards strike of his forearm.

Andy grasped onto _his_ shoulders and propelled him forwards; Matt gave a pained grunt as his back hit the opposite wall. Andy pulled him away from it and slammed him back again.

"Ow, just. Have pity on a naked man," Matt said piteously as Andy yanked him forward again, fingers digging into bare skin.

"Not my fault your transformations don't include clothing," Andy told him grimly and rocked him backward. Matt felt the back of his head strike the hard surface and he groaned. There was a noise, a shocked inhale and Matt looked down the corridor at Pete and Patrick standing there, looking like two lost children as this short furious red-head tried to kick his ass. His _naked_ ass. It really was a pity that the change from man to wolf and vice-versa totally left out garments. Lucky thing that Matt had learned to let go of shame.

"I'm cool!" he yelled at them as Andy seized one of his arms and whirled him around in a half-circle. Matt traveled in a wide, stumbling arc with Andy as the dour fulcrum, leaving one part of the wall and crashing into it again on the other side of Andy, his arm still clenched in a strong grip. "I'm totally fine, dudes! Just stand there, don't worry about me!"

"Andy, don't you think--" Pete started with uncharacteristic uncertainty and then stopped when Andy threw him a dangerous glance over his shoulder. "I'm just saying that this is really violent behaviour."

"We fight vampires, Pete," Andy gritted out. " _This_ isn't violent."

Patrick opened his mouth but Andy turned away impatiently and then yelled as Matt's fingers curled into his hair and pulled. Andy lashed out, trying to find pressure-points, _any_ weak spot, but it was a bit difficult to do so against a werewolf who had one hand grabbing a hank of hair.

Matt grimaced, because Andy's strikes were still very painful, even though he would overcome the effect far sooner than usual. He nearly buckled as Andy's fingers dug into that spot just behind his collarbone, though; Andy actually grinned up at him maliciously as he winced.

Also, his dick had never been so fucking _hard_. Right now, he couldn't care less if Pete and Patrick saw how his cock jutted out proudly, balls heavy and aching even as Andy was now trying to choke him, albeit in a half-hearted manner. He was surprised, however, when Andy's fingers moved from his neck and slid into his hair, tangling in the long, coarse strands. He found himself being steered down the corridor, the both of them hanging onto each other by the hair. It must have looked fucking ridiculous, and when Andy slapped a palm against the security device beside his bedroom door and literally threw Matt inside as it opened, he was really relieved to get that tugging pressure from his head.

The door slammed and he spun around almost drunkenly, but Andy was upon him in an instant. Matt caught him and found himself on his back on the floor, being kissed so violently that his lips felt bruised.

"I don’t want this," Andy was telling him in a stark voice, but he kept kissing and biting and licking, straddling Matt and pinning his hands to the side of his head. "Fuck you, fuck you, I _do not_ want this."

Matt allowed him that ravaging assault for many long, searing seconds and the very moment he sensed a diminishing in this attack, he made his move.

Tilting his hips up, he wrapped his arms around Andy and rolled them over, but didn't completely get on top of him. Instead, he stopped midway, leaving them on their sides. He slung one long leg over Andy's hip though, just to be sure, pressing down a little when Andy tried to shift back.

"No, you don't," he crooned, propping his head up with one hand almost casually, elbow on the floor. "Not after you just tried to kill me out there, man."

Andy didn't respond. He rested his head on the dark carpeting, closed his eyes and sighed, obviously reeling in all his wayward emotions and locking them down. Matt leaned down close to him so that when Andy opened his eyes again, their faces would be inches apart. Andy didn't look very surprised when his eyes fluttered open again to find Matt nose-to-nose with him. His eyes were clear and wide, the pupils almost eclipsing the irises.

He gave Matt a slight, sardonic smile. "What are you going to do, punish me?"

Matt chuckled. This almost felt like old times; at least Andy was _talking_ to him and not snarling ceaselessly. "You want punishment, Hurley? I can do punishment real good."

Andy gave him a long, measuring stare, but he didn't move when Matt moved in closer, just brushing their lips together. When Andy tried to make it another hard, frantic session, Matt pulled back again to that point where their mouths barely touched.

"I'm gonna make you ache for it." He grinned against that surprisingly soft mouth as Andy shuddered.

"That might be a long wait for you," Andy retorted. Matt drew back once more to regard him properly, just looking at him. He gazed at the familiar cheekbones and jaw, noting the way some strands of hair lay damp-dark on his neck. He stared at his nose and pretended not to notice the way Andy licked his lips almost without thought.

"Look. Matt," Andy said slowly and Matt crowed internally at the use of his first name, _finally_. "I know what you're trying to do and I'm not going to allow it."

"Mmm-hm." Matt reached out and cupped his jaw, brushing his thumb against Andy's mouth. For a split-second, Andy seemed to lean into his touch before pulling his face away.

"Yeah. You want sex? I can probably accommodate you. But if you're aiming for... for what was here before, then that's not going to happen. Ever again."

Matt just hummed again. "So, what was there before?"

Andy's face seemed to begin a transformation into stone and Matt kissed him before it could solidify completely. He pulled him in, holding him tightly until Andy began to breathe rapidly, not quite capitulating. The floor was too hard, but he didn't want to move from where they lay entangled with each other, the robe slipping off Andy's shoulder as Matt fumbled at the cloth-belt, pushing his hand in to palm that warm, pulsing cock.

Andy's moan was gratifyingly loud and he thrust in Matt's hand; Matt could smell the sharpness of his need, almost as strong as his own. He felt Andy's hand hesitantly reach around him, pressing flat against his lower back before sliding down the curve of his buttocks to squeeze. Their limbs bumped awkwardly against each other as Andy tried to move closer and Matt continued to jack him off, but it felt like a graceful dance right there on the floor.

"Oh, oh _shit_ ," Andy breathed and Matt found this so surprising, even as Andy came over his fingers, that he drew back and gazed at him as if seeing him for the first time. Andy didn't usually say anything when he came.

Andy was looking at him with heavy-lidded eyes. He breathed out shakily and then struggled up, pushing Matt's leg off his hip unceremoniously and then shoved him roughly onto his back; before Matt could say some smart-ass remark, Andy slid down his body and took his cock deep into a warm, willing mouth.

Matt scrambled back, but it wasn't because he didn't want Andy to go down on him. He wanted to _see_. He sat up with his back against the wall, eyes widening as Andy snaked after him, gripping his cock and licking it again before suckling on the flushed head of it.

Andy looked up at him, lips stretched around his dick. Matt groaned and pressed a trembling hand to his head, carding his fingers through the wavy hair. Andy tended to be very methodical about sucking dick, very thorough. Matt used to tease him that he probably had it written down somewhere, step by step; it was different now. Andy alternated between jerking slickly and sucking and licking and Matt couldn't keep up. When he pulled off at Matt's warning gasps and leaned up a little more to bite right over Matt's belly-button, Matt groaned and stiffened, his come landing in thick stripes on Andy's chest and bath-robe.

Andy sat back on his heels, pressing a fist against his jaw and knuckling it as he wiped at the skin of his chest. He looked at his hand curiously for a moment and brought it to his mouth slowly. Matt felt his cock twitch and he groaned softly, watching as Andy licked his fingers. At the sound, Andy moved his hand away, glancing at him for one scorching moment before looking off to one side, as if he just didn't want to see Matt right now.

"Hey, Hurley," Matt muttered, trying to sit up, to lean forward and grab onto him. He tried once and failed, but caught Andy before he could get up and move away to the bed. He wanted to stay that way for a long time, the both of them kneeling on the floor, his arms full of Andy as he buried his face in the curve of his neck, breathing deeply; but Andy began to twist out of his hold and he let him go.

Andy got up, grabbed a clean towel and headed towards the door.

"Hurley, don't fool yourself. It's not just about fucking... and lust and sex," Matt called out before he could slip out to take another shower. Andy stood at the door, head bent as if in penitence. Then he pressed his palm against the black reader beside his door and went through the opened door.

"Never was, man," Matt finished as the door swung shut, the security panel showing a red line before it winked out. "Never was."

He got up slowly and flung himself onto Andy's bed.


	3. Envy

Matt slouched in the straight-backed chair, arms folded over his chest. He had yawned at least five times since this meeting began and he tried to keep another one from rolling out, but it beat him just the same. Andy spared him a stern glance from across the long wooden table and Matt sighed, rolling his shoulders.

A Slayer meeting. Wow, how mind-numbing. A year ago or so, Slayers would just slide on out, get their killing on; now, with the Agency sticking their controlling little fingers into every slaying pie, there were contracts and zones and deals with vampires. It was all so full of red-taped crap; Matt could hardly keep his eyes open. Regulations and rules spun out over his head and Matt propped one elbow on the wooden surface, resting his jaw in his palm. Joe, lounging beside Andy, looked at him and grinned.

Matt smiled back, rolling his eyes before he tried to pay attention to what was being said.

Pete was at the top end of the table, not at the head of it but sitting right across from one of the Way brothers as Patrick sat beside him; ostensibly Patrick was taking notes, but it was more likely that he was just doodling on his paper, for his eyes appeared distant as he gazed at the creamy surface. The Way that was currently talking to Pete was the older one, from the smell of him. The other Way was sitting beside his sibling, but instead of trying to concentrate on proceedings like everyone else, he was staring down the length of the table at Matt, actually leaning with his back against his older brother, as if they were sitting in a comfy sofa and not at a meeting. His dark gaze was intent and would have been unsettling, but Matt didn't really mind it; he liked being stared at. Made him feel all special and shit.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Andy shifting and then caught movement of Andy's head. Andy had been squinting at the younger Way, obviously wondering what he was looking at for so long. Matt tried not to grin as Andy tracked the Way's gaze right down the line of Slayers and stopped at Matt. Just to piss him off even further, Matt kept his own stare locked with that of Way and winked at him.

Way's lips twitched in a ghost of a smile and Matt smelled Andy's surprise waft over to him. He broke the staring match and turned to Andy, blinking at his stony expression with all the artlessness a werewolf could dredge up.

 _What?_ he mouthed, looking pointedly down at Andy's tightening grip around an empty leather knife-sheath. There were no weapons allowed in this meeting, only the symbols of their trade, if they wanted. For example, just to make Matt laugh, Joe had brought in a small wrench.

Andy's mouth tightened and he flicked an irritated look at Way, who was still resting against his brother and staring at Matt. When he looked again at Matt, the werewolf just blinked at him with large, innocent eyes.

Andy smelled more pissed off than Matt could ever hope for.

"I guess we're settled with the zoning and weaponry, then," the older Way now told Pete as Matt did a little internal victory boogie at Andy's display of jealous wrath. Pete nodded thoughtfully.

"Yeah, we're all agreed, Gerard." Pete turned to Patrick, and addressed him in an oddly formal tone. "Are we all agreed, Patrick?"

Patrick blinked at him and then shrugged, going back to his notes.

Pete stared at him and said to Gerard, without moving his eyes away from Patrick: "Gee, one more thing. Have we put in an application yet for a contract on Travis McCoy's head?"

The reaction in Patrick was instantaneous. There was no blatant movement, but Matt could see his fingers tighten around his pen, the fingertips going white.

"Why do we need a contract on McCoy's head?" he asked casually. "He's a Higher, they don't make much trouble, do they?"

"Is _that_ what he told you?" Pete's voice was grating, literally dripping in concern and pity. "You'd really put such trust in a vampire like McCoy after just one night?"

The atmosphere around the table became heavy, as if a storm was brewing right underneath the hanging light fixture. Patrick kept his gaze fixed on his large diary, but his eyes were darkened, his brow furrowing.

"Actually," he said with determination, "I do."

"You must be out of your damned mind," Pete hissed as everyone stared at them apprehensively. Patrick looked at him, a glance that was tinged with a surprising amount of disdain; then he lifted one shoulder in a lazy movement that would have sent Pete's blood pressure sky-ward... if he _had_ blood-pressure, that was.

"You don't _know_ my mind, so fuck off," he told Pete in a brittle voice and that was where the meeting went straight to hell.

Gerard and his unit scrambled back out of their seats as Matt jumped on top of the table and lunged after Pete, seeing how his teeth had gone fatally long and the way he snapped one clawed hand out for Patrick. Andy was there beside him in a bare moment, moving with him in a way that never failed to delight and amaze Matt; it was always like some sort of choreographed dance. As Matt pushed Pete back, pitting all his werewolf strength against the formidable force of a furious vampire, he felt the warmth of Andy's body brush past him, yanking Patrick from his seat and hauling him away.

Pete wrestled in the strong circle of Matt's arms, snarling and calling Patrick the most horrible of names, spittle from his rant flicking against Matt's forearm. Matt heard one of Gerard's guys, Bob it must have been, say something snide about vampires' tempers. Matt simply tightened his hold, letting the wolf in a little to lend him a bit more muscle. Mix was very displeased with the cold alpha, but Matt really couldn't help that right now.

Matt turned his head and saw Andy holding onto Patrick in same way Matt was holding onto Pete, one arm locked over a shoulder and across the chest, the other arm around the stomach, pulling tight. Patrick was going just as crazy, yelling back insults and struggling with Andy to get at Pete. Matt blinked at the contorted expression on Patrick's face; it seemed that a completely different person stood there, fighting against Andy. What was he going to do, throw down against a vampire like Pete? Against his _friend_ , Pete? It was fucking insane, that's what it was.

Oh, _yeah_. Pete couldn't hurt him, not with that caveat placed on Patrick by McCoy, even _if_ Pete was inclined to harming Patrick in any way. Matt doubted he ever would in any case, no matter how he was acting now. This was Drama Pete to the n th power. So maybe it wasn't so insane after all. But it was hugely disturbing to see _Patrick_ acting in such a manner; he was carrying on as a vampire would, and a major one at that... _aggressive_ , like a Higher. Matt nearly lost his hold on Pete at this sobering thought, because Patrick didn't _smell_ like a vampire, so what was the deal?

Andy grimly hung on and Matt saw that he was losing his grip on Patrick, even though Joe had waded in to hold him back as well. Andy shook out one hand as one of Joe's took its place and then began pressing his fingers to certain spots in Patrick's neck, his shoulders and his arms. Patrick yelled something out, it sounded like, "Hurley, what the _fuck_!", before he went as limp as a doll in Joe's and Andy's arms, eyes rolling up in his head. It was as if Andy had cut all power to Patrick's body and the sight of this sent Pete into a towering frenzy, screeching at Andy. Matt could hardly hang onto him.

He let Mix in all the way.

The sudden absence of Matt's tall frame caused Pete to flail and tumble forward, falling on the ground. As soon as he rolled over, Mix's weight was pressed on top of him, snarling in his face as part of Matt's t-shirt hung around the neck of the wolf. Pete tried to sit up and Mix lashed out in a bite, teeth snapping just in front of Pete's face.

Pete cursed, but lay still. A werewolf bite for a vampire was not fatal, but it was painful and took many weeks to heal. Mix continued to growl at the cold alpha, warning him. This was not the way a leader of a pack must act. How disgraceful.

"Mix," Andy called and Mix backed off from the prone vampire, wriggling in annoyance at how silly he looked reversing out of his stupid human fur. He gave a cursory glance to the others standing in the room; they weren't a part of his pack, but they weren't a big threat anyway. Actually, one of them, the smallest one, was looking at Mix with unadulterated glee, bouncing around on the balls of his feet. If Mix wasn't in the middle of this, he would have went over and asked him to play; he looked like he would be fun.

Mix trotted over to his mate, snuffling his ear companionably. Andy reached a hesitant arm around his neck and then pulled him a little closer, murmuring in his ear.

"Mix? Can you tell me if something is wrong?"

Mix just looked at him for a long moment and then looked down at Patrick's still form on the ground. He looked again in Andy's face.

"Mix," Andy repeated, very slowly and patiently. "Is there something wrong with Patrick?"

Mix continued to stare at him, trying to access Matt's understanding of the human words; he didn't like doing that at all, it hurt his head and made him feel upset, but Andy needed his help. When he finally thought that he might have the right idea, he stepped towards Patrick, bending to sniff delicately at his palms, his stomach and his neck. He reared back after he had inhaled deeply at Patrick's temple and shook himself, giving a wolf-sneeze. He shook himself again; his fur melted back into skin, his limbs elongated quickly and his muzzle diminished as Matt came back.

"That is _so cool_!" Frankie was chortling in a corner, peering over Gerard's shoulder. Joe brought the small blanket that was usually kept on the nearby sofa and threw it over Matt's shoulders.

"Thanks," Matt said absentmindedly, kneeling on the floor with Andy and pressing his fingers to one eyebrow, trying to translate Mix's discoveries in his head. He knew what to say, but not how to say it; when he was Mix, his concepts and experiences of his surroundings could be quite different from his human perception. His senses were far sharper as the wolf than the human, even though Matt's sense of smell was still better than most; sometimes he could hardly sift through the tons of information gleaned as the wolf.

"There is a... line," he finally tried slowly. "It's hard to pick up, but it's there. I couldn't pick it up like I am now, but..."

"What kind of line?" Joe asked when the silence spun out for too long and Matt frowned at the floor.

"I don't know. A line. It starts here," he waved his hands over Patrick's forehead, "and goes out. Patrick is on this end... and I think McCoy is on the other."

"Is he using it to control Patrick?" Andy asked and there was a growl from where Pete was sitting up.

"Maybe. No. I don't think so." Matt tried to shrug a strong feeling of helplessness away, and he hoped his expression wasn't too bleak as he looked at Andy.

Andy nodded at him, his gaze oddly soft. "Okay. Thank you."

"Well!" Joe said loudly and everyone flinched. Matt himself was so startled that he went back to being Mix without thinking about it, pressing close to Andy defensively. "Right, so. That was the end of the meeting and all. Um. We have some stuff in the kitchen, I don't know if anyone wants something before they go out on patrol? Or maybe a five-course meal? I got chicken."

"We're fine," Gerard said in his soft, collected voice. "Although, my advice to you, Pete, is that you handle your unit properly."

"Yeah, wouldn't want the Agency to hear about this," a Slayer called Ray rumbled. Mix looked up at this frizzy-haired human and dismissed him before padding over to the little Slayer. He was surprised and pleased when Frankie went down on one knee and held out a hand, pale palm facing up towards the wolf.

Mix sniffed at it and decided he was alright. He ran away from the human and ran back, tongue lolling out in invitation. Frankie looked like he was about to crawl on over and roll about on the ground with Mix, when the younger Way put out a hand and held him back.

"Not right now," he told Frankie, who put on a horrendous pout, but got to his feet anyway. The younger Way smiled faintly down at Mix, who went up to him and pressed quickly against his legs before racing back to Andy to reassure him, just in case.

"Let's roll," Bob snapped; Gerard and his clan muttered their goodbyes while Joe and Mix escorted them to the solid entry-door. Mix panted happily as Frankie bent to hug him and he made his almost dog-like sharp _whuf_ at them as they melted into the night.

"You're such a charmer," Joe told him and Mix pawed at one of his legs, almost toppling Joe over, before going to flop beside Andy again. He watched carefully as Andy began to revive Patrick, who finally heaved a deep breath and sat bolt upright.

Mix's growl rumbled in his chest at the strange, fierce light in Patrick's eyes that took a second or two to fade away. They all watched him as he pressed his fingers to his temple, eyebrows pulled together as if in pain. His eyes snapped to Pete, wide and shocked.

"I--"

"You should rest," Pete said flatly, as if he and Patrick weren't on the brink of going absolutely ballistic three minutes ago. "Mix and I will patrol tonight, just us two. Joe and Andy will stay here with Patrick."

"Pete," Andy began, sounded exasperated and Pete looked at him with shuttered eyes.

"That's what I'm asking." He spoke in a slow manner, as if the words would burn his mouth and then spun on his heel. Patrick attempted to get up and looked resigned when he couldn't quite make it. Andy pressed the back of his hand against Patrick's head, looking like a fussy parent. "Mix, let's go."

Mix immediately got to his feet and gave Andy's cheek a quick lick; then he loped after the cold alpha, waiting beside him as he opened the large door and they went into the warm night.

*

Mix lay in the back-seat of the car and let Pete's words wash over him. He could identify only a few words, but _Patrick_ was one of the ones he knew that came up the most.

"Never know what you have 'til you don't have it anymore, right, Mix?" Pete murmured bitterly, staring out at the rain-damp streets. There was a light drizzle and a bare breath of wind; the orange light of the street-lamp gave Pete's pale skin a ghastly pall. "Or maybe you didn't have it, all this time. Maybe it was just an illusion and you're left to fucking starve."

Mix mulled this over, whatever it meant, and gazed steadily up at Pete as the vampire turned and peered over the top of the front-seat.

"Even with Matt and Andy kicking the shit out of each other every five minutes," he mused, smiling that twisted non-smile as Mix's ears perked up at the sound of Andy's name, "I'd give nearly anything to have something like that. Isn't that funny, man?" He turned around again and returned his gaze back out the window. "Patrick was _mine_. Mine for as long as I wanted, when I was ready. Shit. Sounds pretty fucking childish, but hey. I wasn't made for maturity anyway."

Mix simply snuffled quietly, eyes half-closed as the wind began to gust a little harder, watching Pete consider the rain.


	4. Fear

_...in a handful of dust._

Matt stepped out of Andy's room, dressed in one of those loose basketball shorts that Andy favored. Not that Andy was any great shakes at basketball, Matt always told him so, but Andy loved to wear them and so did Matt. He strolled towards the kitchen, happening on Pete sitting at the short breakfast counter, moodily stirring a spoon in some cereal.

"Hey," Matt said, going towards one of the overhead cupboards and opening it for a tall glass. He looked up at the round face of the clock: five forty-six am. "Almost time for you to crash, huh?"

"Yeah." Pete took a spoonful of cereal and chewed slowly.

"What is that... Count Chocula? Dude, that is simultaneously sad and creepy."

"What can I say," Pete said through his mouthful of cereal. "It amuses me to eat this." He finally looked up and focused on the darkening bruises on Matt's neck and shoulders; one dark eyebrow twitched in surprise. "Can't you guys take it easy sometimes?"

Matt poured himself a glass of water and slurped it down noisily. "Ahh. Dude, I don't even know the meaning of _taking it easy_. Neither does Andy. Likes to leave his mark, you know?" He waggled his eyebrows and Pete wrinkled his nose at him before taking another spoonful.

"So tell me. Why'd you leave?"

Matt hid his surprise at the seemingly random progression to this question, even though he knew exactly what Pete was asking him. He sat at the breakfast counter with a white bowl of his own, reaching for the box of cereal. "Pack business."

"That line's not going to fly with me," Pete told him, voice nonchalant. There was a dry sharp edge to it, however, like the desert wind. "You tell Joe that, you tell Patrick that. You even tell Andy. Not with me, wolf-boy."

"It's not any business of yours." Matt poured the cereal testily and sloshed some of the milk over it. "It's handled."

Pete's hand shot out and grabbed his wrist before he could dig in, fingers cool against Matt's wrist. "Remember this is _my_ pack, too. More than yours."

Mix disagreed fervently but Matt actually didn’t. Mix was only going to bicker something like that just to be dominant, but Matt pushed down the wolfy complaints. All the same, he gave Pete's hand a pointed look; Pete released his wrist unhurriedly, but continued to look at the side of his face for a long moment.

"Spill your pack business," Pete invited, and went back to his cereal.

Matt slurped up a mouthful before he spoke. "First time I came here, it was to help my pack back east. Stop the pack from splintering. Some of them were... communicating with vampire clans down here, remember?"

"Trying to form an alliance, yeah. I remember."

"Came to stop those idiots. Needed the local muscle."

Pete smiled tiredly. "And stayed when one of the local muscle caught your eye, right?"

Matt grunted, not wanting to explain that it was more than just his eye being caught. First time he had seen Andy's piercing gaze narrowed at him through the bars of one of Joe's traps, he thought it was the most perfect thing he had ever seen. He sometimes wondered if Andy knew that werewolves took their mates for life. He probably didn't; Andy probably wasn't even aware that Matt, for a long time now, thought of him as _The Mate_.

Andy would probably try to knock his teeth out if he found out that little old fact.

"I stayed out here too long," he continued softly. "The old alpha that had been trying to keep the pack together back home... she died. Or maybe she was killed, I won't know now. So I went back east. Made sure the pack wouldn't break up again, that the alphas in place wouldn't let it get out of control once more. Because--"

"Because you wouldn't stay," Pete said in an unusually gentle voice. "They weren't your pack anymore, not for the wolf, anyway. You just wanted to... help out. And come right back." He smiled at Matt's blink of surprise. "Must have taken a lot of time to bring them under control, right? 'Pack business'. The stuff of status quo."

Matt chewed slowly as a response.

"I get it." Pete stood up and took his empty bowl to the sink. He let it and the spoon clatter against the stainless steel surface, looking at them before taking the sponge and quickly washing them. "I really get it, Matt. I'd do the same thing. But don't keep it a secret, like it's only information for awesome alphas, you know? And I'd bet Andy would appreciate being in the know."

Matt tried to stop Mix from bristling at Pete's matter-of-fact tone, but it was a close thing; Mix wasn't used to being told what to do and how to do it. Pete, possibly sensing the internal struggle, looked at him out of the corner of his eye.

"Andy doesn't know, right? About why you left in the first place. I think he needs to, probably take some of the edge off."

This made Matt grin widely, his mood shifting from cloudy to sunny in a second. "Dude, what makes you think I _like_ him with the edge off?"

Pete made a mocking face, which cleared up into a careful blankness as Patrick stumbled into the kitchen, face gullied with sleep-lines and hair on end. He stood at the arched entry of the kitchen, swaying a little; there were dark circles underneath his eyes, which were dazed and haunted.

"Still up?" he said in a low, rusty voice, his gaze finally sharpening as he looked from Pete to Matt and then back again; Pete stared at him and nodded slowly. Matt looked from one to the other as well, tensing for a possible ruckus; maybe he should go wake Andy.

"Just having some breakfast before bed." Pete went towards him, heading for the entry behind him and actually _slinking_ around Patrick, who reached out a hand and grabbed onto the sleeve of his hoodie.

"Um. Want me to help tuck you in?"

This, Matt understood, was some form of saying 'sorry', a kind of Pete-and-Patrick code. Pete looked down at Patrick's pale fingers clutching the dark material, looked for a long time as if that hand was some kind of rare and beautiful butterfly, just landed on his clothes.

"If you want," he finally said, not moving his fixed gaze from Patrick's hand. "I mean, yeah, I'd like you to, but it's not a big deal." Another cryptic apology; Matt wanted to roll his eyes at the both of them.

"I'll do it." Patrick smiled, but Matt could see that it was a pale imitation of his usual wry grin. "I'll come with you right now, okay?"

Pete shrugged and finally moved, the material of his hoodie slipping through Patrick's fingers. Patrick threw a look at Matt and something deeply anxious in his eyes made Matt stay at the breakfast counter until he came back.

"All snug as a bug?" Matt said when Patrick trudged back into the kitchen. Matt was interested to see that instead of taking a fresh bowl out of the cupboard, Patrick took the same bowl and spoon Pete had been using. He disregarded the Count Chocula though, and went for some plainer fare.

"Snug as a bug in a rug... or a crypt, in this case." Patrick's voice sounded level enough, but when he sat down beside Matt and stirred his milk, Matt felt a cold sliver of alarm at the way his hand was shaking.

"Patrick--"

"I know," Patrick snapped. "I know, just. I don't know what to do."

"Wait, did McCoy do this to you?"

Patrick lifted one shoulder helplessly. He suddenly looked very young, hunched over his cereal and barely eating it.

" _And I will show you something different_ ," he intoned softly into the morning that was beginning to bloom pink and grey; the soft desolation in his voice caused gooseflesh to race across the skin of Matt's arms like a rash. Patrick's voice sounded as if it was coming from underneath a grave-stone. " _I will show you fear in a handful of dust_."

Matt whispered, "What? What's that mean?"

"It means," Patrick whispered back, "that I think I'm going crazy."

*

"Have you ever felt like you're being split in two?" Patrick asked and then smiled when Matt turned his head and raised an eyebrow. "Well, you might, I guess. Between you and the wolf, it's like two different beings completely."

"Kind of." Matt was sitting on the floor, back resting against the sofa Patrick was reclined in, his legs sprawled out on the worn rug. He turned his head back around, watching the cartoon flashing in bright colours on the small television. "People might think so, because Mix acts so different from the way I would, you know? But me and the wolf, we're the same." He turned back to face the television, frowing a little. "Like the opposite sides of the exact same coin, but that's not really how it is. I _am_ Mix. You understand? And Mix is _me_. It's just easier for people to separate the two parts like that, I guess. Probably makes me seem less like a psycho."

"Oh."

The cartoon went on in its inane revelry and Matt waited for Patrick to continue.

"I feel like I'm being torn in two," Patrick finally admitted. "It sounds stupid and... and insane, but every night I feel this huge pull, dragging part of my head away from here. At first, I could ignore it. But it's like a part of me is growing colder and colder and that part hates Pete _so much_." He paused, breathing slowly, but Matt smelled his agitation.

"I don't want to hate Pete," he said, "but I think if Andy didn't shut me down that night, I would have tried to kill him. Just for threatening McCoy like that."

"So he has you in thrall, then," Matt said flatly and he knew Patrick was shaking his head fervently even before he looked around again.

"I've seen people enthralled, this isn't it. When people are under like that, they don't even know their own names. They're willing and... and _soft_ , I don't know if that makes sense to you. Soft."

Matt reached around and poked Patrick around his middle, and got a weary smile out of him before his hand was slapped away.

"Not that kind of soft, you idiot. Jesus."

"You want to go to him? To McCoy?" Matt asked hesitantly and his heart sank when Patrick's eyes lit up, bright and eager, before dimming just a bit.

"Pete wouldn't allow it. He's watching me like a fucking _hawk_ , I don't know if you noticed. But if I could, I'd go. I'd... I'd ask him what he really did, and maybe he could fix it. Or," here his gaze locked onto Matt's, vehement once more, "or he could come _here_. Somebody could go get him. Or some _wolf_ could."

Matt stared at him and began to shake his head. "Noooo, no way, Patrick. Pete would kill me and then Andy would kill me and then Joe would beat me in the nuts with a hammer or something. You really want me to go out and get a fucking Higher to come on over for some milk and cookies? Are you _shitting_ me?"

Patrick looked mulish and desperate at the same time. "First of all, you can scent him out. Those Highers move all over the place, they're never in the same place for too long. Nobody would think much of you leaving for a few days, you’ve done it before." Patrick watched him with drilling stare as Matt cut his eyes away, fighting down that sensation of remorse mixed with a little bit of annoyance at Patrick for saying it anyway. "And all you have to tell him is that I want to see him. I want him to help me, he owes me that."

"Are you crazy?" Matt's voice spiraled up and Patrick's eyes were still fever-bright.

"Yes! That is what I'm _telling_ you, I'm going fucking crazy and McCoy knows how to help. I don't want to hurt Pete," he said in a strangled whisper. "No matter how stupid that fucker is, I _never_ want to hurt him. Whatever McCoy gave me, I want him to take it back."

He was _lying_ , Matt thought and he wasn't sure if Patrick knew it himself. No matter what Patrick thought, McCoy did have him under some kind of influence, twisting and turning that gossamer connection until Patrick's mind was breaking. Towing Patrick away in bits and pieces; why would he do something like that?

Matt swallowed hard. "I... I think I might be able to help," he managed to say and the gratitude on Patrick's face melted most of the misgivings he might have had. A pack-mate needed his assistance; all Matt could do was try his best.

 _But suppose your best blows up in your face, Matt?_ A small voice whispered in his mind; it was his own voice, but it sounded like it was doing a great impression of Andy at his most cool and reasonable. _Suppose you go along with Patrick's little scheme here and it all bites the fucking dust, as they say. It's happened before, you know._

 _It'll be fine_ , he thought firmly and tried to squash the insistent voice away as he gave Patrick a reassuring smile, receiving a feeble one in return.

 _I'll show you fear_ , Patrick had said, _I'll show you fear in a handful of dust_.

Matt tried not to shudder as he recalled just what vampires became when they were staked.

Dust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lines that Patrick quoted are from [_The Waste Land_](http://www.bartleby.com/201/1.html) by T.S. Eliot.


	5. Love

Pete was indeed watching Patrick like a hawk; he even changed their formation on patrol. Instead of Joe and Patrick on support, dispatching those lesser vampires that had managed to escape when Pete, Andy and Matt stormed their nest in a direct strike, it was now Pete, Patrick and Matt on the direct column, the main attacking force, while Joe and Andy taking up defensive flank. While Matt liked hunting in a team and it really didn't matter to him which position he had, Andy _hated_ the new arrangements; he loved being in the thick of things, whirling one or two of his swords gleefully, but in deference to Pete as their leader, he said nothing. Patrick made no comment either and instead of the nervous fear Matt was expecting from his direction, there seemed to be a cold kind of cloak settling around him. His face looked different as he worked the rifle, harsh lines cutting into his normally placid face.

Pete kept him within range at all times. Matt did too, mostly because that was what Pete wanted, but he really didn't think it was a good idea having Patrick under lock-down like that.

In any case, Patrick seemed content with his promise to contact McCoy, at least for now. Matt had an idea, however, that soon Patrick would start pleading with his best large eyes, almost rendering him as powerless as when Andy slanted a look at him in a certain way. He could understand why Pete felt so strongly over him. There was something ... _compelling_ about Patrick sometimes, an unknown potential that made Matt strangely happy that he had Patrick in his pack.

At least Patrick seemed a little calmer now and so maybe they had just a bit more time. Besides, the moon was moving towards its fullest state.

"Look at your arms," Andy pointed out that night, when he was happily lolling about in Andy's bed after his shower. Even if Andy refused to loll with him (focusing on his sharp weapons and pointedly ignoring Matt's giddy stretching and rolling), it was still so wonderful being near him, the smell of Andy cascading over Matt's head and into his nose.

Matt glanced down at the arm Andy was looking at, knowing before he even looked that the hair against his skin looked coarser, darker and longer. The call of the moon was growing stronger, reaching into the wild heart of the wolf. Matt preferred staying close to home on the night of that perfect bright moon. He felt a little less control during those nights; he found that the compulsion to make sure Andy was safe grew to almost unbearable levels. Before he had left, he had gotten into the habit of just staying in his wolf-state during the nights of the true full-moon, curled quietly at Andy's feet; he felt soothed and less inclined to tearing someone's head off. He could try that again this time, no biggie.

"Full moon," he said and tilted one shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. "You know it happens every month. It's like my version of PMS, only less bloating and pain. And ix-nay on the menstruation-ay."

"How awesome, Matt, _thanks_ for the bio lesson. Seriously." Andy balanced one long, slender blade in his open palm, eying the bright length of it with a critical eye. Matt couldn't help but flinch away from the sword as Andy made a testing stab with it; he could smell the damn silver, why the _fuck_ did Andy have this one made with silver trace? He was just about to open his mouth and bitch about it, but Andy had already seen his recoiling motion. Without a word, he found the dark scabbard and slid it in, then got up to exit the room. Matt stared at the half-opened door, listening to him walk quietly to the very end of the corridor, where the big weapons storage was, what Joe called the War Room. He tried to stop the huge smile from overtaking his entire face. Andy had been doing shit like that quite randomly, as if he thought Matt wouldn't notice: he had been removing those few items with traces of silver out of his room, every knife, every machete, and every rapier.

"Why'd you have them made with silver in the first place?" Matt still asked with a touch of offended pout when Andy came back. Andy leaned against the door with his arms folded and regarded him steadily.

"Just in case."

"In case of _what_? Dude, tell me you weren't going to use them on me, were you? Because that would make me so sad, man. Ever see a werewolf cry?"

Andy gave an incredulous snort as a response; Matt mentally counted that as a laugh. "When you left, there were still two or three crazy ones hanging around with Beckett's clan. I wasn't going to sit here and... and _worry_ over whether you were coming back or not. I had to make sure they wouldn't get up again and bite us in the ass."

"Because werewolves _love_ doing that," Matt leered and Andy rolled his eyes, pushing off from his position against the door. Matt shifted against the bed-head, watching Andy walk across the bedroom and pull open his cupboard doors. Instead of clothes on hangers, a light snapped on to reveal his favourite swords, around seven or eight of them sitting comfortably on wooden display racks. Andy gazed at them with satisfied eyes.

"Which is the one your teacher gave you, again?" Matt already knew which one; he just wanted to hear Andy talk.

Andy reached out and touched the topmost weapon; even though it was still under its protective covering, the shape of it was obvious: long, with a slight upward curve away from the sharp edge. It looked light and deadly; Matt had seen him wield it only a few times. The sound it made when it hissed through the air was chilling and it cut through hordes of attackers with frightful ease. Andy only reached for it when he was particularly intent on terrible destruction.

"This was in my teacher's family for hundreds of years." Andy took into both his hands, lifting it from its resting place. He walked towards his chair with it and sat, resting it in his lap. Unlike the others, this wasn't in a leather casing, but wrapped in dark cloth. "He gave it to me."

Matt settled against the pile of pillows, Andy's acknowledgment of Matt's deep fixation with ultimate comfort. He actually grabbed one of Andy's, squeezing it a little, waiting for Andy to continue in his quiet voice.

"I was probably his worst student. I was too old when I started training, too lazy and just too full of sass, you know?"

Matt chuckled at the word _sass_ , grinning against the pillow. Andy squinted at him and then one side of his mouth twitched slightly.

"Never learned a lesson the first time," Andy said wryly, unfolding the dark cloth and gazing down at the bright steel. "I always had some stupid shit to say when he was trying to teach me something."

At this point, Matt always tried to imagine a little feisty boy with dark hair that gleamed red in certain lights, running around and glaring indignantly at all who wanted to direct him. He ignored that Andy had told him his hair had been shorn short for most of his teenaged years. He _liked_ Andy's hair this way, mostly due to the fact that it was at just the perfect length for him to twist his hands in.

"When he was dying, he told me to take it. I was the last student he had left." He ran his fingers along the flat of the blade, tracing the dark inscriptions that danced in a language that Matt could only assume was of Eastern origin. "At least, I was the last student that hadn't been turned. And he asked me to remove his head before he could finish turning himself."

Matt snuggled his Andy-pillow, now thinking about a young boy asked to take his teacher's life. He spent a few moments contemplating this as Andy re-wrapped his sword and returned it to its place of honour in his closet.

"Come here," Matt said suddenly, tossing the pillow to the side and beckoning to Andy with open arms. "Come on, stop giving me the stink-eye, I want to tell you something."

Andy hesitated for a moment and then crawled onto the bed, to settle right on top of Matt. He grunted in complaint when Matt tightened his hold and there was an extensive session of shifting for a comfortable position until Andy was grudgingly ensconced between Matt's long legs, head resting on his chest and strands of his hair already taken captive by Matt's gently twisting fingers.

"I'm what they call an alpha, right? But that's not really how wolves understand it."

Andy nodded, trying to stay tense but relaxing against his will.

"Alphas are... we're supposed to be protectors of the pack. The pack doesn't have to know what's going on; we're there to make things alright."

"Are we going somewhere with this, Matt?" Andy tried to sound bored, but Matt bestowed a hearty kiss on his brow. It was very heartening to notice that Andy didn't move away from his affection or wipe his forehead childishly as he once would have done.

"It’s just that we don't usually give reasons for what we do. That's just the way we operate, don't you see how Pete acts sometimes? If he was a werewolf, he'd be alpha until it _hurt_. Like now, come to think of it, but that's not the point." He drew a deep breath. "The point is, it's not always right... sometimes there are others who need to understand."

"If you're talking about why you had to go back east, then I don't have to hear." Andy tried to draw back but Matt refused to let him. "Matt, I don't give a fuck, I don't want to--."

"Shut up, I _want_ you to know. So just keep your ass quiet, man. I'll tell you about my old pack that I tried to help out. Why I had to go back."

Andy went still and listened.

*

Matt should have done this a long time ago, telling Andy the reason why he had just disappeared one day: rushing back across the country as the message came that the old alpha was in trouble of being usurped by deceitful members of the pack; those same wolves who had distracted Matt with their troubling association with vampire-clans so many miles away in the first place. By the time he had been called back from his deepening interest in Andy, the old alpha was dead and a massive power struggle had been tearing his former family apart.

"I gave up my position," he said to Andy. "I didn't want to... to make this stupid-ass claim and let everything get even more fucked up. Honestly? I didn't want to stay, anyway. So I just helped out the next best alphas, getting the pack in order."

"What if these new leaders needed your help again?" Andy asked quietly, but Matt heard the resignation in his voice.

"I'd give it." He kissed Andy on the forehead again with this admittance. "I _did_ renounce my status, I think that's the best way you can think of it, but I'd help again if they needed me. But I'd make sure to tell you if that ever happened. I'd make sure to come back here. To you." He added this last part with all the bravery he and Mix could muster. _Thinking_ one thing was easy, actually saying it out loud was a bitch.

"I see." Andy's voice was without inflection and Matt could barely scent out what he was feeling; he was locking it down far too tightly, but Matt thought he could pick up wisps and shades of a reserved pleasure. Before Matt could get a chance to pepper his face with more kisses, Andy spoke up again. "What happened to the ones who were making trouble, siding with the vampires here?" Andy asked, one finger idly tracing a path down Matt's chest, around one dark nipple. Matt bit back a moan as it went all eagerly crinkled under Andy's touch. "Did you kick their collective ass?"

"We had to do much worse than that," Matt rumbled. Andy moved his head, resting his chin on Matt's chest and looking right in his face. Comprehension filled his eyes and he leaned forward suddenly, pressing his mouth against Matt's. Before he had a chance to pull away, Matt deepened the kiss, releasing Andy's hair so that he could stroke down that inked back with both hands, trailing his fingers over wiry muscles and feeling them flex as Andy moved to straddle his hips, knees pressing into the bed on either side of Matt's legs. He kissed Matt more demandingly, his hair falling around their faces like a dark curtain.

Matt moaned when Andy pulled away and bent to nip at the lobe of his ear. He could feel Andy's cock, the heat of it pressing against Matt's stomach.

"You want to fuck me?" Matt blurted out and Andy drew back from where he had been leaving a livid mark against the side of Matt's neck, blinking down at him.

"What?!" He sounded very surprised at this. Matt shrugged.

"You know. Fuck me. That's where you put your dick--"

"I _might_ have an idea of the mechanics of gay sex, Matt," Andy said dryly, but his eyebrows were raised, a little stunned. "You... you want that?"

"I want it if you want it." Matt went up on his elbows, tilting his face invitingly; Andy obliged him with a quick kiss, but drew back again, tucking his hair behind his ears.

"We've never done it that way," he observed and appeared disconcerted when Matt chuckled. "Not that I don't like it when... you, know, when we do it like how we usually do, because I happen to like it that way a lot." He pursed his lips and Matt looked inquisitively up in his face, truly confused at the expression now residing because he had never seen it before on Andy's features. It actually took him quite a few seconds to realize that Andy was _blushing_.

Oh, wow. He tilted his hips mischievously and Andy gave him a light punch on the shoulder. "Ooohhoho, okay, so you _like_ the deep-dicking, that's cool. Everyone knows you're a size-queen, anyway."

Andy stared down at him, scandalized, before he started to laugh incredulously. Matt wanted to wrap himself up in that rare sound, stay cozy in it forever. He slung a hand around Andy's neck and dragged him down again.

"Come on, man," he muttered against Andy's mouth. "Come on, you know you want it."

Andy looked exasperated when he moved back, but he tugged at the waistband of the boxers Matt was lounging around in, his fingers eager. Matt raised his hips and allowed them to be pulled off and hung over the bed-head, waiting for Andy to do the same with his own clothing. His very own neat-freak, he _loved_ that.

"Here," he said helpfully, and reached for the little container of lube. Joe had been inside the room the day before and had been inspecting the lube with much interest, babbling about finding something to oil a few gears, until he had found out what kind of lube it really was. Matt had laughed until his sides hurt at the way Joe had dropped it onto the surface of the bed as if it had burned his fingers.

"I'll just go find some WD-40," Joe had declared and then dashed out.

Now, Matt took one of Andy's hands and without thinking too hard about what he wanted to do, he pressed the fingers against his lips, a long, content kiss. He had closed his eyes while doing so and when he opened them again, Andy was looking down at him with an unguarded expression, fingers now brushing softly over his mouth. His eyes grew round as Matt opened his mouth and sucked two fingers in, licking between them even as he grinned. Andy watched him avidly as he pulled them from his mouth with a quietly obscene _pop_ , smiling all the while.

"You're pretty much insane," Andy pointed out. Matt winked at him.

"Admit it, you like it." Matt pushed him back and sat up, slapping the small container in his hand and sitting up. "Now, first step? Let your fingers do the walking."

"Jesus, what's with all the talking? I've had this done before, I think I can recreate the magic," Andy griped but he quickly smeared the slick substance onto his fingers and just looked at them for a moment. Matt grabbed his wrist, leaning back to lie down and guiding his hand between his legs. He could feel Andy's fingers graze his balls and slip further back. Andy pressed their foreheads together as one fingers stroked around that crinkled hole and then stole inside.

"Am I doing this right? Breathe, Matt," Andy advised softly and pulled out a little, twisting a little before pushing back.

"I _am_ breathing, don't you worry about me, babe," Matt told him with tight cheer, inhaling sharply when Andy started in with two fingers and then began carefully crooking them in a _come here_ motion. "Hey, think you'll find it so- oh, oh, shit," he breathed through cascading shards of pleasure as Andy smirked down at him.

"So. Ready for some deep-dicking?" Andy asked solemnly after awhile of leisurely stretching that was driving Matt up the wall; Matt gaped up at him for about four seconds straight before bursting into peals of laughter. He was still laughing when Andy pressed into him and these dissolved into low, hitching moans, biting his lip against the widening pain. He closed his eyes and arched up, letting his skin remember the feel of Andy's hands on his legs and hips, Andy's cock tunneling slowly inside him. How incredible; he took in a hissing breath through his teeth and then tried to relax as Andy slid all the way in and then started out again, taking such care. He opened his eyes just a little and saw Andy's face through the dark fan of his own lashes; his mouth was parted in a strange expression of amazed concern.

Andy was moving far too consideringly for his taste, though and so he drew his legs up, wrapping them around Andy's waist, undulating with every thrust so that Andy would understand his need for _faster, deeper_ ; but Andy shook his head, keeping his own pace. Andy's mouth was upon his and one hand stroked from Matt's neck, over his collarbone and down his chest, rested flat against his clenching stomach before clutching his hip, the thumb pressing into the dip there.

Matt groaned as Andy's hand moved again, wrapping tightly around his cock and thumbing across the plump head of it.

"I'm going to have to warn you," Matt panted, writhing under the patient assault, grunting with every thorough pull of Andy's cock against his prostate, "that I'm going to fucking _howl_ or something, ok?"

"You're not." Andy grabbed him behind the neck and dragged him up a bit, coaxing out what felt like the most deliberate orgasm Matt ever had, as he kissed the threatened howls into a moan that felt like it echoed in Matt's chest. Matt bucked up in him as he came, jack-knifing and grabbing onto every part of Andy he could find. He was smugly aware that Andy was gasping loudly and he made sure to clench as tightly as he could, when come pulsed warmly inside him.

"Oh, my ass," Matt groaned as Andy slipped out of him. "Oh, jeez, that was. I don't even know."

"Bad, good? Otherwise?" Andy inspected Matt's come laying in opaque stripes on his stomach and tentatively licked it. Matt nearly threw him off, it was just too much.

"Andy, when I get my brains back in my head, I'll tell you."

Andy laughed again, a clear sound that Matt was quickly getting drunk on. There was a sudden pounding on the door.

"Matt, who's in there with you?!" Joe demanded through the intercom.

"It's me, Joe," Andy called back, reaching for one of the boxers above their heads and gently dabbing at Matt's stomach. Matt felt his cock quiver slightly as his touch.

"No way, man! Andy Hurley doesn't know how to laugh." There was some shuffling outside. "Patrick. Hey, Patrick, does Andy know how to laugh?"

"Um. Yes?"

"Like a real person?"

"For fuck's sake," Andy spat and sprang out of bed, snagging the towel Matt had left hanging over the back of his chair. He pressed his palm against the security panel and opened the door to a surprised-looking Joe and Patrick.

"I laugh," he said slowly. "I'm not _that_ cold-hearted."

"Right," Joe returned with a wry twist in his voice. "In any case, we're pretty glad Matt is here to do... whatever you guys do. Right. Patrick, what the hell are you staring at, haven't you ever seen a half-naked ninja before? My goodness."

There were more jumbled sounds outside, now sounding like a playful scuffle, before Andy returned, slamming his door.

"Come back to bed, babe," Matt said warmly, "and I'll show you what _real_ deep-dicking is."

"Get over yourself," Andy retorted, but even though he tried to hide it, his saunter back to bed was far quicker than it normally would have been.


	6. Hate

Matt stared grumpily at Patrick's back as he stood in front of the stove, poking at the steak that was searing in a frying pan.

"No, don't finish it in the oven," he snapped as Patrick went to do just that. Patrick turned and gave him a long, annoyed glare and then grabbed a large double-pronged serving fork, stabbing the meat with it and transferring it from the pan to a nearby plate. He picked this up and came towards the eating counter, clattering the plate down in front of Matt, snatching a knife out of the nearby block and slapping it down beside the plate.

Matt sulked at it until Patrick made a noise of disgust.

"Dude, you better eat this one, or I will ask Andy to take your head off," he threatened. "It's raw enough!"

Matt pouted even more. "You don't fucking _understand_ , man, the moon is driving me insane. One part of me wants this so raw, it's still twitching and the other part wants it all the way done." He bent and sniffed at it, his mouth watering in spite of himself.

"Just eat it. I'm not making another one for you." Patrick folded his arms and narrowed his eyes. "Hey, why couldn't you have asked Andy to do it for you? You dragged me away from _five_ experiments, man."

"Because I like my ass intact. Hurley won't touch meat, you know that."

Matt got into his steak, ignoring the utensils and using his hands and teeth to handle the warm meat. He made contented sounds as the taste of it hit his palate.

"Eww," Patrick said and then sat right next to him in appalled fascination. "How is it that Andy doesn't eat meat and you do, and you guys get along? Well... get along the best way you can."

"Oh, he eats meat," Matt told him slyly and yanked at his crotch before going back to his meal. Patrick made gagging sounds. "It's not a huge problem like you think. Andy's not gonna go around with a sign or anything."

Patrick rested his elbow on the surface of the table and propped his head up on his hand, watching Matt as he wolfed down his dinner. Matt was glad that they were already aware of the strange state he went into around the time of the moon. His temper, normally very easy-going, became harsh and prickly and his normal possessive nature over Andy transformed into downright domineering. If Andy wasn't the type of person he was, Matt would have cowed him into total submission a long time ago, which wasn't what he wanted at all.

Matt was licking his fingers and having a nice little daydream about licking _Andy_ when Patrick asked him the question he was dreading all week.

"Matt?"

"Hmm?"

"I... ok, so I was wondering when you'd go find McCoy for me."

Matt froze for a moment and then finished cleaning his fingers.

"I figured I'd go before the moon gets too full. Tomorrow, I'll go tomorrow, when we're on full-break from patrol." He looked out of the corner of his eye at Patrick. "I have to tell Andy that I'll be away for a day or two, though." Patrick looked alarmed at this, but Matt patted him on the hand. "How're you holding up?"

"I'm hanging on," Patrick said, tugging at the ends of his hair. "It comes and goes."

"Pete asked me the other day if you were alright," Matt tried casually, but Patrick's face went white nonetheless. "Patrick, maybe you should tell him--"

"If I do, then his only reaction is to have some huge war with McCoy and I'll still be breaking apart." Patrick's nostrils flared as he tried to control his breathing. "I just don't want the two of them to get into something huge over me. I'm not worth that kind of bloodshed."

Matt opened his mouth to differ strongly with this, _no_ pack-member of his was unworthy, but Patrick shook his head and went on.

"Just... just ask him to come out this side and I'll meet him. We'll figure out how I have to distract Pete, but I'll cross that bridge when I get there." The corners of his mouth moved in a slight smile. "Pity that they don't carry cell-phones, huh?"

Matt nodded. Vampires disliked instruments like that; as a matter of fact, Pete had been pissed when he had found out that he and his fancy phones were forever parted. The phones were irritating to them on some level; Matt himself was a bit sensitive as well, starting just a little when they rang, but that was it. Most Slayers didn't carry them either, since the instruments would alert vampires to their presence.

"I'll find him, Patrick," he promised on a growl. "Don't worry."

Patrick nodded and his gaze focused on some point behind Matt's shoulder; Andy was standing at the entry to the kitchen, his delicious smell literally hooking into Matt's nostrils and forcing his head around. Matt did indeed follow his nose, turning to give a feral smile to Andy, who was leaning against the arched entry. He was about to jump up and probably do something to Andy that would make Patrick gag or blush, but Andy beat him to it.

He simply said, "Go brush your teeth," before turning around and striding off. Matt threw Patrick a narrowly satisfied look before leaping up and racing to the bathroom.

"You're welcome, you punk!" Patrick yelled, but Matt was busy brushing his teeth with the fury of a hurricane, cleaning the taste of the meat out of his mouth. He flew out of the bathroom and let himself into their room, finding a nude Andy sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, elbows resting casually on top of his pale thighs as he leaned forward a little. He changed his position as soon as Matt stalked over to him, unfolding his legs and going back to rest on his elbows, legs drawn up and open.

Matt pounced on him, his hand going to press flush against Andy's thickening cock, kissing him wildly as he tried to fumble around for the lube and keep his hands permanently fused to Andy at the same time.

"It's fine," Andy could barely say between bruising kisses. "Go on, I'm ready."

Matt stopped, breathing hard and looking down at him in bewilderment. Andy gave him a small smile and a twitch of his eyebrows. No way... he _couldn't_ mean... Matt slid his hands down the backs of Andy's thighs, down to his ass and finally feeling his already slickened hole.

"Oh no, you _didn't_ ," Matt groaned in sheer delight and didn't even bother taking off his own clothes, he was far too desperate for that. He simply dragged down the waistband of his shorts, took hold of his flushed cock and mounted him, hands under his ass to tilt his hips up; so tight and slippery and _warm_ , and then each of his big hands went to grip the backs of Andy's knees impatiently, pressing the legs up and open even more. He let go of them when Andy flexed them a bit, placing his hands on the side of Andy's head, thrusting and grunting without shame.

Andy was staring up at him with half-lidded eyes, knees gripping the sides of Matt's rutting hips. Matt actually gasped when Andy pinched one of his nipples and he was suddenly right at the edge of orgasm, his balls drawing taut as Andy squeezed around him.

" _You_ \--" was all he could choke out, before his entire body tensed as he stuttered out a groan, pressed deep inside his mate as he came; he heard Andy's soft moans through a red haze of pleasure. He tried to get his breath back and very nearly couldn't; his arms were weak and he barely managed to pull his spent cock out before he collapsed half-on, half-off Andy.

He took few more seconds just _basking_ and then realised that Andy was quietly jacking himself off.

"Hey, no, babe, I'm gonna... let me," he insisted, crawling feebly down the bed and moving Andy's hand away. He didn't go for the cock first, though, never mind the delicious begging sounds Andy was making. Instead, he rolled Andy over, coaxing him onto his hands and knees, kneeling behind him.

"What are you doing?" Andy said breathlessly as Matt took a pale ass-cheek in each hand and parted them, gazing with a highly interested eye at that reddened hole his cock had just been pounding in, thumbs slipping a little way in to divide even more. His fingers were dark against his handfuls of flushed, pink skin. He bent forward, ignoring Andy's shocked "Matt, _no_ ," and gave a long swiping _lick_ , tasting his own come and the lube that still gleamed wetly and the strong musky flavour of Andy, who tried to pull away from Matt's invading tongue. Matt held him firm, lapping and pressing his face in, breathing rapidly, almost dizzy at all of this. Andy had gone down to bury his own face in a pillow, moaning into it and writhing helplessly.

 _Damn_ the moon, he was getting hard all over again. He pulled his face away, moving his hands to anchor at Andy's hips, thrusting in his cock once more. Andy clawed at the sheets, grabbing fistfuls of it, but he pushed back against Matt, taking it all.

Oh... oh, he _loved_ the full moon. The full moon was now his _favourite_ time of the month, never mind he got all crazy and wanted to spend every second of it growling at anyone who looked at him or Andy sideways; never mind he was probably fucking his own brains out, only able to come in weak dribbles this time; never mind he was probably being too rough when he rocked back on his heels and dragged Andy up with him, biting him the back of the neck even as he fisted his cock and squeezing him tightly as Andy cried out and shook, hands gripping Matt's arms.

Matt felt mortified at himself. Just a _little_ , to be honest, mostly he was sated and triumphant, but still he released Andy quickly and turned him over, brushing hair that was dark with sweat from his cheeks. His face was blotchy from exertion and there was a slightly dark-red patch of skin across his chest where Matt had squeezed him too tightly. It was fading even as Matt looked at it, but he still touched the area with gentle fingers.

"Andy, jeez," he muttered, frowning. "I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry, why didn't you stop me?"

Andy looked up at him, a slightly confused tinge to his normally bland expression.

"If I wanted you to stop," he remarked a little breathlessly, going up on one elbow and tugging lightly on Matt's hair with the other hand, "you'd have been _stopped_. Trust me."

Matt grinned down at him and Andy pulled a little harder. He winced, but managed to keep smiling. "Hey, you liked that part where I was all up in your--"

"Yes, Matt," Andy intoned, flopping back and covering his eyes with his arm, a smile playing around his lips nonetheless. "That would be the _entire_ thing."

Matt chortled; he couldn't help it, any more of this and he'd be _giggling_. He cuddled close to Andy, ignoring his soft grumbles to make sure they were wrapped securely in each other.

"Patrol in one hour," Andy said, totally destroying his good mood. He thought about all the people he'd have to glare at tonight and muttered darkly in the curve of Andy's neck.

Andy simply threaded fingers through his hair and soothed him into a fitful doze.

*

"You're in a bad mood tonight," Frankie observed cheerfully as they were on joint patrol. Matt's nostrils were flaring, barely restraining himself from leaping out of the car and racing across this multi-storied parking lot to save Andy, who didn't need saving at all. Andy was happily hacking at a group of lesser vampires, their eyes red with violent thirst. Patrick was sitting in the front seat, looking listless as a student languishing in class and waiting for summer. Pete had asked him to stay here and Patrick had agreed readily, simply sitting in the car and basically allowing himself to be guarded by Matt.

"It's the moon," Mikey Way said. He and Frankie had somehow managed to gravitate towards them, sitting comfortably in the car and watching him with large, interested eyes. "You know, I thought werewolves only transformed when the moon was full."

Matt snorted, starting towards the door when it seemed as if Andy had been overtaken by the snarling bloodsuckers. He breathed out when Andy's two swords slashed through the crowd of them and he stepped out from where he had been cornered, gazing around contemptuously.

"Matt can change whenever he wants, you saw that for yourself," Patrick said quietly. Frankie's eyes got even rounder.

"Yeah, 'cause I'm all grown and stuff." Matt hung onto the window with both hands, growling as Pete shoved a few more vampires in Andy's direction and relaxing only when Andy had taken care of them all. "Mature werewolves don't need to wait on the moon to change. Don't believe everything you see on the screen, man."

Patrick suddenly aimed his gun outside and dispatched with two Lessers that had been sneaking up behind Pete, who shot a grateful look in his direction. Patrick looked away.

"Hey!" Ray yelled from where he was bludgeoning a hapless vampire with a weapon that was far too spiky for Matt to really appreciate it. "Frankie! Where the hell are you!"

"Busy! You're doing _great_!" Frankie screamed back without taking his eyes off Matt. "Change for me, please?"

"I'm not in the mood," Matt said harshly and promptly regretted his tone at Frankie's disappointed gaze. "Dude, I just--"

"He's on edge because of the moon," Mikey said and took something out of the front pocket of his warm, woolen coat, holding it up. It was a silver guitar pick, only _painted_ in that colour; not the real thing. It began to wink in and out from between his fingers and Matt watched it with increasing absorption, not fixating on Andy for once. It was one of the most interesting things he'd ever seen, the way the pick seemed to flicker and dance in Mikey's hand, twirling across the middle of his palm, then dancing along the tops of his knuckles.

"Watch this," Frankie advised, his own eyes carefully not looking at the way the pick seemed to weave around Mikey's quick fingers. "He's good at this mystic shit, you'll be cool in a minute."

"Matt?" Mikey said gently. Patrick stirred in his seat but didn't turn around.

"Yes?" Matt felt as if his brain was slowing down, just from tracking the movement of the pick on Mikey's hand. "Yeah, Mikey Way, you want something?"

"I just want you to relax. Take a few deep breaths."

Matt did as he was told, inhaling and exhaling with expansive movements of his chest. The pick flashed and disappeared, flashed and disappeared.

"Andy's fine, he can handle himself. You're fine. The moon is strong, but I bet you can be stronger, right?"

"Better believe," Matt said dreamily.

"Great. Now when I count to three, you'll come straight back up from wherever you went, ok? And you'll feel so much better. More at ease."

"Sure, Mikey Way."

"One," the pick flickered and shone, "two," the pick was flicked into the air and Matt eyed it as it made its arc up to the ceiling of the car and back down to disappear in Mikey's fist. "Three."

Matt blinked rapidly and then a grin stole across his face. "Hey! How'd you... _shit_ , I feel awesome. How'd you do that?"

Mikey shrugged, a small smile curling at the sides of his lips as he returned his pick to his pocket. "I don’t know. I can put nearly anybody right under, give them a suggestion or take one away. It's like the only gift I have."

"Frankie!" Ray was bellowing and Frankie made a face. He grumbled as he opened the door and stumbled out, grasping his gun. It wasn't the long one that Matt had seen when he had first met Frankie, but a small, delicate-looking weapon. Frankie was fast and precise, leaving a neat hole in the forehead of the vampires he aimed after.

"Damnit, didn't you hear me yelling all this time?" Ray fumed, pushing off a dead vampire that had had him pinned to a car.

"I told you I was busy!"

"That's a really cool gift," Matt said to Mikey, stretching luxuriously. "Oh man, I feel like I've slept for a week."

Mikey smiled and Matt punched him lightly on the shoulder, feeling so much more in control. In all his years as a mature werewolf, he had never felt so perky and cheerful at this time of the month. He just felt so _normal_. Patrick looked around at him; his eyes were blank, like empty holes in his head.

"Anytime, Matt," Mikey told him with that same small, private smile. Matt grinned back at him, hoping his nervousness over Patrick wasn't showing. "Anytime."

*

"Andy."

Matt was whispering, but Andy came up out of sleep almost immediately, raising his head from where it was resting on Matt's pillow and blinking owlishly.

"Don't freak out," Matt continued, watching as Andy's gaze swept over his naked form standing near the bedroom door. It took all his will not to clamber back into bed at Andy's considering look. "But I need to go do something for a friend."

"What?" Andy rolled over and sat up, the sheet slipping down to reveal his pale, tattooed chest. "Where are you going?"

"If I tell you, it'll probably get all fucked up. But I'm coming back, I swear. It's...it's just to help a friend."

Andy stared at him and then glanced away, pulling his legs up and wrapping his arms around his legs. "Alright, then."

Matt gazed at the side of his face, smelling the distress wafting from him. "Don't be like that. I really need to do this for--"

"I understand, Matt," Andy cut in; when he looked back at Matt, he wasn't smiling, but his face looked fairly relaxed and open... at least, open for Andy. "I..." he sighed and then one side of his mouth twitched wryly, as if he couldn't believe what he was going to say next; but one thing about Andy was that he just said what he had to say. Matt had always adored that about him. "I'm just going to worry over you. I hate worrying, it fucks with my concentration."

Matt threw all his carefully laid plans out the window and leaped back into bed, cuddling up to Andy and kissing him almost fiercely.

"Is it Mikey Way you're helping?" Andy barely managed to ask through these frantic kisses. Matt drew back.

"What?"

"Mikey Way," Andy said carefully, but he didn't look directly at Matt. "Is it him you're helping?"

"God, you are so _hot_ when you're jealous," Matt muttered and kissed him again, running his tongue quickly over Andy's lower lip before diving in again. "No, it's not Mikey Way."

"Good. So I don't have to go find him and try to kill him, then?"

"Dude, stop that," Matt literally whined, kneeling over him and bending to lick around one nipple. "Keep doing this shit and I'll stay forever."

Andy grinned, actually _grinned_ at him and Matt kissed him right on it before he was gently pushed away. Matt wondered if he would have pushed him like that knowing who he was really going to find. Matt had an idea that Andy would probably tie him to the bed, not that _that_ was a bad idea at all; also, Andy was probably trying to give him _space_. Very noble, that was sure, but a part of Matt was wishing he would ask more questions, make a bigger fuss. Jeez, he thought he had disliked the position Patrick had placed him in before, but now he was getting _pissed_ over it; it wasn't helping anyone to go through that at this time.

"Just remember to keep Patrick calm, ok?"

Andy nodded, his gaze locked on Matt's face for a moment, that same tiny grin lighting up his eyes. His expression was mild and slightly mocking at the same time, as if he knew exactly what had been filtering through Matt's head just a few moments before.

"The sun is just about rising," he finally said, pushing at Matt's shoulders; he watched as Matt hopped off the bed and allowed Mix to come right through. Mix licked his hand happily when he slid off the bed as well, and then allowed him to fasten the small pack that Matt had prepared over the broad, shaggy back.

Andy hugged him around his neck and Mix whined. "It's okay, Mix. Do what you have to do and get back. Quick as you can."

He opened the bedroom door for him and Mix reluctantly made his way down the corridor and through the living area, to the fortified main exit that had a smaller door made for him right at the bottom-center of the solid surface. He pawed at a little button right at the edge of the door; after a few tries, there was small hiss and his special wolf-door popped open.

He stepped out into a bright morning and was not surprised to see Patrick sitting on the long wooden bench right near the front door, waiting for him.

"Mix," Patrick said with a wan smile. He had a few things in his hands, a bit of human-fur and a black square item that Mix associated with that interesting box in the relaxing-cave, that box that had people and animals in it, but no _scent_ from those people and animals. It always amused him. Mix went over to him and Patrick held it the soft human-fur for the wolf to sniff.

"This is the shirt I was wearing when I was... when I was making the cure for McCoy and his clan." Patrick gave off a mixed scent of embarrassment and eagerness. "I haven't washed it yet. So... I guess that's a good thing, right?"

Mix simply stared up at him before sniffing at it again, sifting through the different layers. He could pick up Patrick quite easily; the faded, dry aroma of the vampire was threaded through that Patrick-smell as tight as a knot. Strange. He stepped back and stared up at Patrick again.

"What is it, Mix?" Patrick asked as he leaned down. Mix just waited until he was close enough to sniff at his pale temple. That strange cord that he had smelled before, that weird connection between McCoy and Patrick, he barely sensed it. It was so slight, he wondered how he had found it in the first place; maybe he had tried extra hard because Andy had asked him. No matter; all he really needed was a _direction_ , just to confirm what his nose was telling him.

He stepped away and loped off, stopping at the gate and looking back so that Patrick would press a finger to the small square item, which would make the long red lights go away. If he passed through the long red lights while he could see them, then a big noise would start up and other lights would flash and Andy would get out here with all knives and swords blazing, and he wouldn't be able to leave; but it was alright, Patrick had just turned them off and now he slipped through another special wolf-door, put in just recently, and exited into the quiet street; the surface of it was a shiny dark river flowing past their pack-home.

He headed west.

*

Mix sat in the bushes in front of a low house and waited. He wasn't very tired, he had been running on the strength of the moon for about two days. Besides, the human called Mikey had done something to him and he felt far less irritable than ever before. Mix hoped that he could convince this Mikey-human to do that for him every month.

He had gone past the roaring streams of cars, going in the direction that they had last tracked Patrick when McCoy had spirited him away. He picked up the scent of the vampire right near the base of that hill; looking up, he could see just the faintest glimmer of walls, but the vampires weren't there. Their tracks, fresh ones, were going away from this place and there were quite a few of them, both living and undead; so much so, that he had to stop and snuffle around for quite a bit, making sure that the vampire he was following was among them.

In cars, they had gone. Lots of cars, a _herd_ of them and Mix diligently huffed and snuffled through the dry, packed earth, sneezing now and again; he found the trail once, lost it, found it again and went quickly after it. He rested under the shade of a short tree in the heat of the day and took a long nap. As soon as the sun went down and the bright moon rose, he got up again, chased a small juicy prey and crunched its bones under his sharp teeth. The Matt part of him always hated that, but Mix was hungry at the time and Mix was going to _eat_ , like it or not.

Another day of rest and now it was night again; he had finally found his quarry and was wondering what to do next, as he stared down a sharp incline into a sleepy community of identical houses. Only a few lights were on at the end of one quiet road.

There was a faint, scraping noise to his left; Mix suddenly picked up the smell of a _vampire_ , far too close. He whirled around to face the tall form of McCoy, who had been moving with almost completely silent steps through the underbrush. If a branch hadn't rasped across the sleeve of his dark jacket, Mix wouldn't have heard him at all. It was disconcerting, the way he seemed to have just appeared _right there_ , but Mix stood his ground, ears laid back a little and baring his teeth as the vampire gazed down at him with a mocking curl of his lips.

"Hmm, what do we have here?" he said in a low, dragging tone, folding his arms. He flicked his gaze quickly from side to side, as if expecting to see someone else, before he looked back at Mix with dark, unreadable eyes. "Come on down, pup. Can't have my guests hiding in the bushes now, can I?"

McCoy walked off with those same eerily silent steps and Mix stared at his back. There were other vampires walking around, presumably searching for him, but Mix had scented them out long before and had made sure to position himself where he could not be seen.

McCoy stopped and turned his head, narrowing his eyes at Mix. "Well? Come on, man, ain't got all night."

Mix hesitated and then hurried warily after him. They headed in the direction of the lit houses, as the other vampires who had been hunting around slid out of the dark beside them. Mix looked up at each of them as they fell into step, but they gave off no scent of wanting to harm him. They were worried, though, that was obvious. They were worried about their pack leader.

They stopped at the narrow entry to one of the mundane houses, and only McCoy and Mix continued in. Some of the others remained on guard at the gate, standing behind the neatly trimmed ficus trees so that they were not seen from the road. Yet others went around the house, probably taking up other protective locations or going to the basement. Mix felt smug at having slipped through their defenses, until McCoy himself had to come and find him. A few other persons were inside, but these were fully human, mates to the vampires. These also smelled distressed over their alpha and Mix actually blinked at the force of their emotion.

"You can get to your other self in there, since I don't speak wolf," McCoy said, waving disinterestedly in the direction of a small room just inside the entry. Mix watched him as he continued down the wide hall, slouched forward a little with his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Mix pondered this and then changed right there in the middle of the hall.

Matt shrugged off the backpack and rummaged around it for his change of clothes, yanking on the jeans and t-shirt quickly before walking barefooted towards the entry McCoy had disappeared through. It was a small library, shelves piled to the tall ceiling with books. Matt stared around; Patrick would _love_ it here.

"Something to eat? Drink?" McCoy was seated behind a large, mahogany desk, so polished that his reflection was as crisp as a mirror. He was staring at a cigar in his hand; smoke curled from the lit end, but he was looking at it as if it had done him many a wrong.

"No," Matt said shortly, surprised at this polite offer.

"Then sit down, stop looming over me and shit."

Matt dragged away one of the seats placed in front of the desk, making sure it was a little out of reach of the vampire if he decided to lunge, although McCoy could probably move faster than Matt could blink. McCoy gave him a mirthless smile as he sat down and Matt saw what Mix had been wondering over in the entry-hall: McCoy's face appeared as broken as Patrick's.

"Let's get to it. Where's Red?"

Matt stared at him. He actually hadn't expected this question at all. "What?"

McCoy closed his eyes briefly and took a drag from his cigar. He made a face as he exhaled the pungent smoke and pulled open the topmost drawer on his left, hefting out a heavy clay ashtray and putting out the cigar in it.

"I used to love those," he mused, staring down at the rolled cigar. "Now I get no enjoyment out of them. Because of that fucking Slayer in my head. Apparently, he hates smoking." He looked grimly amused at Matt's incredulous expression. "He's a real little spitfire, that Red. Why isn't he _here_? Why is he still fighting me?"

Matt had heard that same tone of petulant weariness coming from Patrick. Unthinkingly, he replied, "He just doesn't want to leave Pete yet," because in spite of what Patrick wouldn't say, _that_ was the reason. Anyone with two eyes in their head could see it.

The furious hate that filled McCoy's face in that instant was shocking... and familiar for all that. Matt had seen it before on Patrick's face, when Patrick had been disastrously close to tearing a huge chunk out of his closest friend.

"That so?" McCoy said in a cool voice, completely at odds with the way his dark eyes were sparking venom. "Then tell me, why are _you_ here?

"Patrick... he needs your help." Matt thought, trying to find some kind of diplomacy. After all, these vampires had shown him nothing but cool courtesy so far. "I don't know how he'll get that done, but he wants to see you."

"If he really wanted to," McCoy hissed, "he'd be _here_ , not with that fucking traitor vampire. All he has to do is give in and I'd take him home willingly."

"This isn't a game or anything, Patrick's going _crazy_ ," Matt argued, and got even more pissed at the stony expression on McCoy's face. "You think he can just pick up and leave everything, his _home_ , who he _is_ and... and come crash over here with you?"

"Do you know why he's acting that way?" McCoy stuck his smallest finger in the ashtray and poked at the forlorn cigar. "Irrational and tired? Because he's fighting our link. He's also feeling the way I feel about that Wentz kid. And trust me, I _hate_ that Wentz kid." He looked at Matt with narrowed eyes. "Wentz could have been part of my clan, you know."

"What--"

"That doesn't matter now, it's history. Point is, what he has with me now is crushing his little attachment to that asshole. And what we have," he continued with grim contentment, "is _unbreakable_. Let no man put asunder, and all that awesome shit."

Mat stared at him for a long time, because... because he really couldn't be fucking suggesting what Matt _thought_ he suggesting.

 _Seriously_. He couldn't


	7. Depression

"Wait," Matt said, suddenly feeling very slow, like a child who has missed many weeks of school. "What do you mean when you say _unbreakable_?"

Travis gave him a quick, foxy grin. "Let's just say that if I were so inclined, Red and I would be living in a house with a white picket fence." He looked very smug as Matt felt his jaw unhinge.

"You're not telling me... okay, just. You're not fucking telling me that you _married_ him?"

"Yeah, if you want to use those human terms." Travis arched an eyebrow at him, his stare drilling relentlessly into Matt's. For a moment, Matt was forcibly reminded of how old this vampire was and just how much power he possessed, before his gaze softened almost imperceptibly. "I didn't mean to, not at first. I just wanted to put him under the protection of my clan, you know? But my _intent_ changed at the last minute. Maybe because that was his intent too." McCoy shrugged. "That's just how it happened. Right now, Red is probably the most important member of my clan, apart from yours truly." There was a flash of that grin again, as dangerously cocky as Pete's smile ever was. "If Red wants, he can come home to me. Save his brain from all that hassle, man. Simple."

Matt said, "Pete is going to _kill_ you."

The change in Travis' self-satisfied demeanor was immediate. He gave his ashtray an irritated push and it flew past Matt's head and shattered on the wall behind him. "You think I give a _fuck_ what Wentz thinks?" he snapped. "I see how it went down. He probably thought that Red would be waiting in the corner for him, like some toy."

Matt bristled. "You don't know about--"

"Oh, I know." He leaned forward in his chair and Matt refused to lean away. "I _know_. But you're failing to see the bigger picture here, Wolfie. With a Slayer in this House, we might start understanding each other better. It doesn't have to be this way, the fucking killing and fighting. I don't know about Beckett, nobody can reason with _that_ fucker, but I can give you a promise: as long as Patrick is part of my family, and he _is_ , I won't hurt any of you."

"All your promises come with some sort of twist," Matt noted with a surge of anger, gripping the arms of his chair. "You said you put Patrick under protection but you really caught him with some fucked-up permanent vow. I don't know how to take any promise from you."

McCoy appeared in now way put out by this observation. "I'm a vampire. That's just the way it is, take it or leave it."

"Jeez, don't you give people a chance to know if they want this? If he's so important now, doesn't he get some kind of fucking _choice_?"

"But he did choose," McCoy said with a terrible type of patience; the tone of it seemed to make Matt's skin crawl. "Just the same way you chose that Slayer of yours, the one with all the sharp swords. Thing about humans, sometimes they don't know what their choice is.... you don't think so?" he finished at Matt's doubtful gaze. "So, your little dangerous samurai, you think you’re his mate as much as he's yours? Because humans, man, they're flighty as _shit_. Gotta pin them down before they decide you're too much of a monster for them."

 _Andy's not like that_ , Matt wanted to say, _and I could never hold him to something he doesn't want_ , but he could get nothing through his tightly pressed lips. Fuck, he thought he had been fairly resistant to the compelling nature of vampires; now, all he could think about was the way he had always assumed that Andy would be his mate, as long as he wanted. Doubt began to creep in, like smoke through a crack in a wall. Some of it was projected from McCoy himself; Matt could smell his anxiety over Patrick, which wasn't showing on his face at all. Matt grudgingly gave him mental props.

Mix was fretting, though, low doubtful whimpers echoing in his mind. Matt let them bounce around his head.

"Are you going to help Patrick or not," he managed in a flat tone, already suspecting the answer.

"Red needs to depart from his former house completely and cleave to mine," McCoy replied, his inflection oddly formal. "Without his outright acceptance, I will not force him nor go near him, even though he remains protected by me. That is how the union is."

"He just might refuse that, because of who he is." Matt felt desperate. "He... he might die. Can't you let him go?"

"He's mine as much as I am his. As for him dying... that is a price that I am willing to pay, man," McCoy said slowly, but there was something crumbling behind that haughty expression. It was kind of frightening to see so much emotion flitting across the face of a vampire that wasn't Pete. It suddenly occurred to Matt that McCoy was laying his own life on the line as well, if the link between them was growing that strong. "It's everything, as you well know, friend-wolf. _Everything_... or nothing at all."

*

Matt stood across the road from the home he had considered his after he had left his former family. It wasn't much to look at, from the outside at least. A high concrete wall surrounded it, almost completely hiding the converted warehouse within. He could jump the concrete fence, either as human or wolf, but the dingy gray surface was foreboding. It was amazing how much awesome it managed to conceal. Patrick's clever lasers and remedies, Joe's traps; Pete's powerful brooding (which amused Matt many a time)... and Andy.

_You think you’re his mate as much as he's yours?_

Matt twisted his lips against the darkly mocking voice that murmured in his mind; he wasn't an alpha for nothing, but these qualms moving stealthily about his mind were unsettling. Matt shook his head once, and stepped across the quiet darkened road, heading for the heavy gate he had left through days ago. He looked around, smelling neither human nor creature approaching him, and peered at the surface of the gate, quickly locating two crossed lines. These were faint in the light of the streetlamp, which indicated some sort of panel. He pressed a finger near to the junction of these lines and the front face of the panel popped open, revealing those black surfaces that were scattered all over the warehouse, electronic locks to private spaces.

Matt breathed out slowly and then placed his hand on it, palm flat.

Without missing a beat, the red light that had been a dull line below the black surface brightened to green. Below it, letters and words flashed on a tiny display: _Unit member identified. Entry time: 11:17 p.m....Welcome home, M.M._

Those words made him feel a little better as the gate clicked open and he slipped through, knowing that the lasers had been deactivated until the moment he was all the way in. _Welcome home_.

Patrick was standing just inside the already opened door, looking at him with his eyes hopefully wide; he must have been on watch. He had lost a shocking amount of weight in those few days and his hair underneath his cap looked as if he had spent time pulling fretfully at the ends of it. His gaze snapped from side to side and Matt realised he was doing the same thing McCoy had done: looking for the person who, for all intents and purposes, was now his significant other.

"Matt?" Patrick said in a scratchy voice, waiting as Matt climbed the few steps onto the small trellis-covered space they treated as the front-patio. He locked the door as soon as Matt slipped in, shrugging off his empty-backpack and placing it in the corridor closet. "What... what did he say?"

Matt looked down at him, and shook his head slowly, not knowing how to explain. Maybe he didn't need to, because Patrick's hopeful expression began to tilt into desperation.

"I think you know already?" Matt said in a low voice. "I don't know if you'll live with something like that. If Pete would. I could take you to him, though, I know exactly where he is. I think I can follow him nearly anywhere now."

Patrick sighed in response. "He's forcing me to choose, both of them are," he replied in a voice weighed down by entire worlds. "What a pile of _shit_."

"To him, it's everything, Patrick," Matt felt the need to point out.

"Or nothing at all." Patrick nodded slowly and without warning, stepped forward and placed his arms around Matt's waist, resting his head against Matt's chest. Matt reached around his shoulders and dragged him into a long hug.

"Thanks, man," he said in a surprisingly calm voice even as he clung to Matt. "At least we can find him again, if anything."

"Find _who_ again?"

Patrick went as rigid as a board in the circle of Matt's arms. Matt could hear his heart-rate ramp up, and smelled the mixture of confusion, desperation and McCoy-fueled hate spiral out of him, backed up by a mourning love so loyal it cut sharply. Matt held him close, feeling Patrick start to tremble.

Pete, Joe and Andy were standing in the living area, dressed for patrol. Joe was stepping forward in concern, coming to a stop as Matt shook his head slightly. Pete and Andy were frowning; Pete's face actually resembled a storm-cloud, it was that thunderous.

"Find who, Patrick?" he repeated, obviously trying to sound patient; but his voice remained tight. Andy's eyes were narrowed at the both of them.

"Doesn't matter any more, Pete," Patrick sighed and carefully wriggled his way out of Matt's grip. Matt let him go with much reluctance, hoping that he wouldn't leap at Pete in anger again. "It doesn't matter."

"We've been friends for a long time, Patrick," Pete said slowly. "Don't hide shit from me."

"Get over your fucking self, _Wentz_ ," Patrick snapped and Matt stifled a groan; that was McCoy, alright, seeping via their tortured link right into Patrick's personality, like ink through rice-paper. In a flash of understanding, Matt suddenly knew why McCoy's clan seemed so distressed: if Patrick was over here acting like an alpha vampire at times, then McCoy must be at his end carrying on like a mild-mannered Slayer. Matt tried to imagine the crazy shenanigans, but couldn't.

Pete looked as if he had been slapped. If he had blood running through his system, it would have drained from his face. His nostrils flared; Matt had once heard Joe say that Pete's face had been like a book when he was human; every emotion could be read as clear as day. It was obvious that this trait had not disappeared, even though he was a vampire now. Matt could see the miserable hurt flicker across his eyes before he tried to cover it with a hard glare, but Patrick wasn't even looking at him.

Patrick pinched at the bridge of his nose, shoving his glasses down a little. "Pete," was all he managed to say, breathing out the name.

"When you're ready to stop acting like an asshole," Pete cut in with freezing tones, and Patrick's gaze snapped to his, "you can talk to me like you're using your fucking head. Whatever _thing_ ," and here he said _thing_ as if he had tasted something bitter, "you and McCoy have, I won't have it fucking up this unit. It's just not gonna work. I won't have it, you hear me?"

"McCoy and I don't have anything going on," Patrick replied and Matt wanted to put a hand over his mouth, because that was so far from the truth. Patrick's tone turned even nastier: "Isn't that how you want it, Wentz?"

Pete looked as if he was itching to get his hands around Patrick's neck and _squeeze_. "You don't even--"

"We have patrol," Joe cut in firmly. "And since Matt is home-- hey, Matt!" Matt gave him a weak wave. "Right, since Matt is home, I can go back to flank. I don't know how you fuckers deal with all that direct strike shit. Let's go, let's just do our job and get back."

Matt had never been so eager to go out on patrol in his life. He promptly let his body twist into that of Mix's, shaking himself thoroughly out of the constrictive human coverings. He backed away from Andy as the Slayer approached him, feeling confused and unhappy. What if his mate wasn't _really_ his mate? That would be... unfortunate, to say the very least. It was down to _everything_ , just as the vampire had said. Everything or nothing at all.

"Mix?" Andy was looking down at him, perplexed, but Mix simply stared up at him for a long moment, before turning to pad beside Patrick as they exited. He looked back only once as they headed towards the car, spotting Andy walking with his head down, a sheathed sword resting on one of his shoulders and balanced there by his hand resting lightly on the hilt, another sword slung at his back. Mix jumped into the back-seat and snuggled into Patrick's side as soon as he sat next to the large wolf. Right now, this was the pack-mate that needed the most affection, all the snuffling and licking and petting Mix could impart, until Patrick would stand no more of it.

Mix was here to give comfort unconditionally, and maybe stop himself from feeling too sad over Andy for too long.

Maybe.

*

Patrol had been a disaster. For the first time since Matt had been on-duty, a human got caught up in the skirmish. How the fuck that happened, Matt didn't know. One minute, Mix had had his teeth clamped around the ankle of a Lesser-vampire, dragging it away from its intent to maul Patrick, and the next moment, there was a high-pitched shrieking coming from the mouth of the alley they had been in.

"Fuck," Patrick had snapped and pumped his rifle twice, firing it down the length of the alley; the fire-flashes were so bright, they hurt Mix's eyes. The screaming descended into a bubbling groan and Mix smelled blood, iron-sharp and strong. Mix bounded down the alley and leapt at the group of vampires who had been circling a hapless man, who was now lying on the ground; Mix only saw his feet, clad in sensible brown loafers, drumming on the ground for a moment before they went still.

Mix snarled as he pounced right into the bloodthirsty lot of them, biting and snapping. He ducked as Andy's swords went swinging over his head in smooth, shiny arcs; as soon as Andy stepped away from him, he lunged again, locking onto the throat of the nearest one and bringing it down.

Sirens sounded in the distance; as soon as Matt released the Lesser's throat he had between his jaws, another had fallen upon him, clawing and biting him on his side. Seriously, Lessers were _crazy_ sons of bitches who were only good for making _more_ Lesser vampires, single-minded in their violent need to have blood. Who else would bite a _werewolf_?

He had whirled around to get the biting thing off him, only to see one of Andy's swords sticking out of his attacker's back, still vibrating with the force of Andy's throw. The Lesser made a weird, shocked sound ( _urk!_ ) before it slid off and fell face-down to the ground. Mix sniffed at it and growled softly, looking up at Andy when he yanked his sword out; as soon as he did so, the mottled skin of the dead vampire began to shift and fade, becoming almost translucent in the dim light of the alley.

"You okay?" Andy knelt, reaching out a hand to touch Mix's ribs as the rest of the unit dispatched with the remaining Lessers. Mix bent his head and nudged his hand away with his nose, not wanting him to touch it. Where the vampire had bit him was blazing with pain, many deep puncture wounds made by long teeth.

The bite of a vampire would not turn him, he knew that. But it would make him very sick, maybe kill him, if the pack-mate who made the strange liquids didn't help in time.

"Look, Mix," Andy crooned, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a clear vial. "Look, this will help. See?"

Mix whined as Andy pulled open the rubbery top of it and poured a little of the thick liquid onto the bites in his side. It soothed the flesh wounds, but the fever that was beginning to race with frightful, aching speed through his bones and muscles suddenly intensified. His senses were going haywire, everything smelled too strong and overpowering. He tried to lie down and curl up in a tight ball, to lick his wounds and probably go to sleep right there and then, but Andy wouldn't let him.

"No, Mix, not yet. Pete, help me."

Mix had huffed in surprise as he was hefted bodily in the air. He felt very uncomfortable as Pete had carried him over to the car, placing him on the backseat. He had thought about jumping out, the fever now seeming to make its way into his brain, but Andy clambered in and sat so that Mix's head was comfortable in his lap. He tried to raise his head, but Andy pressed it back down gently, running his hand through the thick fur between his ears and down the back of his head, over and over again.

Mix had barely heard his soothing words as the car sped through the narrow roads.

*

Mix came awake like a swimmer rising to the surface of a lake, going slowly from cooler layers of water, to warmer, brighter levels. He actually gasped feebly, taking in a lungful of air just as if he had been holding his breath. He groaned softly; he was on his side on the floor, curled up in a tight comma on a large, fluffy rug that had been placed right over the familiar blue carpet in Andy's room. The pillows from the bed were placed around and under him and there was a light blanket covering his body. His muscles felt a little more exhausted than usual; he must have switched forms continually during the time he'd been out, the werewolf way of dealing with intense pain.

Andy was on the ground with him. He couldn't see him, because Andy was behind him; Matt could feel Andy's head resting against the curve of his hip, one inked arm flung over to be almost hidden in the thick tan tufts of the rug. Matt could smell the warm sleep of him, pressing into his skin like a beloved blanket.

He must have shifted too much when he was raising his head to see better, for Andy stirred, coming awake with that eerie rapidity he had.

"Matt?" he whispered, lifting himself a little and moving back as Matt rolled over. "How do you feel?"

"Like some idiot bloodsucker tried to sew me up with their teeth," Matt rasped and chuckled weakly at Andy's severe expression. "Dude, I'll be fine in a few hours."

"That's good to hear." Andy made himself comfortable in his favourite seated position, cross-legged with his arms resting loosely on his thighs. "Lucky for you that your werewolf metabolism takes to Patrick's remedies well."

"Yeah." Matt put his arms behind his head, ignoring the murmuring pain in his side. He spent a few long moments just looking up at Andy, studying his face.

"See anything you like?" Andy finally broke the silence with his eyebrows raised and Matt shrugged. "Matt," he continued, calling his name with uncharacteristic gentleness, "you should have just told me you were going to find McCoy for Patrick."

"You would have tried to stop me, man," Matt defended; it was pretty likely that they all knew who Patrick had sent him for by now. "Patrick... he thought it would help to get McCoy, and--"

"I wish you'd just shut the fuck up sometimes, and let me talk," Andy cut in, not unkindly. "Just listen for a minute?"

Matt snapped his lips shut and even mimed zipping them up, locking them and throwing away the key. Andy rolled his eyes, but smiled.

"You're so _alpha_ , is just what I want to say. Someone needs help and you go rushing off without really _thinking_ about it, big old happy superwolf, you know? When you were gone, I was thinking pretty hard about the whole thing and I got to this: you want to protect your pack so bad... but sometimes, Matt, you can let your pack protect _you_."

Matt stared at him. "Hurley, that is the longest sentence I've ever heard you say in one go."

Andy yanked a pillow from under his head and thumped him soundly in the face with it. "I'm being fucking _serious_ , Matt."

"Me, too! No, for real, don't hit me again." Matt covered his face as Andy pulled back the pillow, presumably to clobber him again, but when he peeped through his fingers, Andy was leaning close, his face just a few inches away. Matt moved his hands, almost completely entranced by the hazel flecks in Andy's eyes.

"Next time you feel like being superwolf, stop and think," Andy advised with his usual placid tone, even though his eyes were glinting, eliciting a reaction in Matt's groin that his body wouldn't be able to carry through right now. Maybe in a few minutes, though. " _Think_ , Matt. I can help if you need me to. I _want_ to help you when I can."

"You do?" Matt was probably all starry-eyed right now, but he didn't give a fuck.

"Yeah. And if you go around being all depressed and weird and giving me random cold-shoulder like you did when you got back the other day, I will kick your ass."

"You're so abusive, man," Matt mock-complained and moaned as Andy kissed him, hot and deep, tongue curling into his mouth and dragging a few more happy moans out of him. Matt pulled his lips away, breathing hard before he could say, "Hey, um. Did you know that.... that werewolves mated for life?"

"I didn't know that." Andy looked thoughtfully down at him, brushing cool fingers across his brow and down the side of his face. "That's kind of interesting, actually."

"Oh, sweet. _Interesting_ is Hurley-ese for _fucking-A_." Matt felt smug; as a matter of fact, he felt the smoky doubt begin wisp away. Jeez, that vampire McCoy must have felt extremely insecure about his situation to be projecting it on Matt so strongly... ah, fuck it, who was he kidding, it was mostly on him. He had it pretty bad though, to swing from being pessimistic over the idea of the Mate not being The Mate, to feeling like he owned the world with Andy smiling down at him like that.

"You're such a huge idiot," Andy said fondly and kissed him again.


	8. Anger

_Whack!_

"What the fuck! Motherfucker, what the _hell_?" Matt spun around, glaring at Andy and rubbing the spot in his lower back where Andy had struck him with the slender _bo_ -staff. Andy gave him a hard glare.

"Leave my mother out of this. Pay attention, stop daydreaming."

Matt groaned and shook out his hands and legs, stretching a little as Andy paced in front of him; he hadn't been daydreaming, he'd been _worrying_ over Patrick. He hated sparring with Andy, anyway; a large part of him refused to drastically harm Andy in any manner... but if that fucker hit him _one more time_ with that stick, he was going to have to hurt somebody.

_Whack!_

Matt yelped and dived after him. Andy was quick; he sparred regularly with Pete, so his reflexes were sharp, but Matt still managed to catch him as he tried to slip away, shoving him into the nearest wall.

"Stop it," he growled, pressing against him, pinning his arms to his sides. "Just _stop hitting_ me, Hurley."

Andy wrenched one hand out and punched him in the stomach, a double-tap that made his breath whoosh out of him. Andy's hands were smaller than his, but the force behind his punches made it seemed as if Andy was jabbing him with a spear. Besides, Andy knew just where to hit him to get maximum effect.

"Come on, Mixon," Andy taunted as Matt grunted and staggered back. "Big old wolf like you, can't take a few hits?"

Matt glowered at him; he _knew_ what Andy was trying to do.

Last night, after he had tentatively told Andy about werewolf mates, Andy had wanted to hear more. He looked highly interested when Matt had rambled on about occasions where werewolves, infuriated over something drastic happening to a pack-mate, went _berserk_.

"Berserk?" Andy had been lying on his side, one hand propping up his head.

"Yeah, it's like..." Matt had wrinkled his nose, pondering the wolf understanding of that confusing, enraged state. " _Berserk, berserker_ , that's just our human terms for it. Wolves might say _blood-rage_ , I guess. You get so desperate and pissed-off, everything just goes crazy."

Andy's eyes had gleamed and Matt hadn't thought much of it until this morning, when Andy had dragged him down into the large room right next to Pete's own quarters, snapping on the lights and basically trying to rile him up.

Andy rushed him with the _bo_ again. Matt grabbed the supple end of it and yanked it out of his grasp, flinging it into a corner. He reached out again to grapple with Andy, who seized two handfuls of Matt's t-shirt and then just dropped backwards onto the floor, dragging Matt down with him. Matt felt Andy's bare feet on his stomach, pushing up and away; he found himself hurtling in the air over Andy, dropping heavily on his back.

Fuck, that _hurt_.

His pride got bruised even more when Andy's face hovered over him, a half-smile twitching at his lips. He had retrieved his fighting-stick, and was twirling it effortlessly in his left hand.

"That was pathetic," he remarked lightly and jumped back when Matt snatched at his ankles. "Seriously, Mixon, I don't think you're really trying here."

"Fucker," Matt spat out and rolled over to a crouch before scrambling after him. Andy sprinted off past the weight-machines, evading Matt's grasp easily. He made another tricky move, lunging to the left and sticking his foot out so that Matt stumbled over it and flailed right into the nearest concrete wall, nearly putting an imprint of his face into it.

Matt was pretty pissed off, but he was nowhere near that uncontrollable _berserker_ state that Andy was attempting to goad him into. He obviously didn't know how messed up Mix would be in such a condition. Still, when the _bo_ made another wooden slap against his butt, his temper blazed.

"I'm gonna fuck you _up_ , Hurley," he snarled and Andy actually _laughed_.

"Promises, promises."

Matt pushed himself from the wall, spun around to face Andy, who had taken up a defensive position with his _bo_ : one foot thrust forward, leaning on the back leg with the polished fighting-stick pointing steadily at Matt. He was shirtless, dressed in the long, loose trousers he favoured while sparring, hair pulled back. He looked good enough to _eat_ and if Matt wasn't planning on schooling his ass, he would hold him down and fuck all this annoying behaviour right out of--

Andy darted forward as he began to get lost in a sweet little contemplation involving Andy's mouth and his cock, and struck him in the ribs with the _bo_ ; three whip-like hits that were more exasperating than painful, since Andy wasn't putting his all into these. He was being mindful of Matt's side, which was still slightly sore. Matt roared wordlessly and charged, making sure to keep his eye on Andy this time. He noted that moment when Andy tensed to dodge away and threw himself in that direction.

His arms closed around Andy's slender frame and the two of them went crashing and rolling on the ground, Andy struggling mightily; the _bo_ clattered on the ground beside them.

"You don't want me pissed off, man." He straddled Andy's stomach, pinning his hands on the ground beside his head. Andy tried to throw him off, but Matt held him down and sneered at him. "What're you going to do _now_ , kiddo?"

Andy twisted his hands and tried to slide them down out of Matt's grip, very nearly succeeding. Matt dragged them up over his head in annoyance, barely resisting the urge to roll him over and grip the back of his neck with his teeth, to make him keep still. It wouldn't work that way, anyway.

Andy continued to twist and writhe, as slippery as an eel in Matt's grasp.

Matt scowled down at him. "Stop that," he barked and Andy gave him a narrow, calculating look.

"Ok, Matt," he finally conceded, still wriggling a bit. "Ok, babe, let me up."

Matt's scowl melted slowly into an incredulous expression; Andy stared back up at him, slightly puzzled. He didn't even know what he _said_ , Matt realised. Andy just wasn't the kind of person to go around using such endearments, and yet he _just did_ , as easily as if he had been throwing his knives.

Matt swallowed back a giddy grin and relaxed his grip, his fingers still loosely encircling Andy's wrists.

"Just... I don't like being under that berserk state, ok?" He trailed his fingers down the insides of Andy's arms, which remained over his head as if Matt had tied them there. Matt gazed at the bronzed tone of his fingers sliding against the paleness of Andy's skin, contrasting wherever tattoos had left it bare. "You could never get me mad enough to go all the way there, though."

"No?"

"No _way_ ," Matt said firmly, letting his hands slide down over Andy's shoulders, thumbs stroking at his collarbone before slipping down to rest flat on his chest for a moment. "No fucking way. Not even if you hit me with that stupid stick again."

His fingers were now tracing the waistband of Andy's pants; his cock, heavy and swelling quickly in his own shorts, strained and leaked against the material. He bent down, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to one eagerly crinkled nipple.

"The door's not locked," Andy murmured even as he arched into the touch. "Anyone can just walk in."

Matt imagined how they might look to someone strolling into the training room: Andy on his back as he lay on the padded surface, arms extended over his head as Matt mapped his tattoos with teeth and tongue, craning up so that he could lick at the line of Andy's jaw. Now, if someone would indeed burst in, they would see Andy's hands finally moving to cup around the back of Matt's head, pale fingers buried in the dark hair, tilting Matt's face up so that he could press their mouths together; they would see a slow and comfortable kiss at first, which slid into deeper, more heated territory.

Matt struggled to get off their pants, but it was kind of hard with Andy's arms now slung around his neck, pressed against him so close. He only managed to yank them just a little way down, shifting so that he was now between Andy's legs, which drew up to accommodate him, thighs pressed against his hips. His shirt was rucked up haphazardly, their trousers skewed between their bodies; when Matt made an experimental thrust, he could feel the damp drag of his cock against Andy's through the rumpled layers of thin, slippery material.

Andy moaned against his mouth and bucked up against him. Matt dragged his mouth away, panting as he pressed his face into the curve of that fair neck. He felt Andy's hands creeping back into his hair, grasping hanks of it as they rocked against each other.

"Oh, _fuck_ ," Andy groaned and turned his face to stick his tongue right in Matt's ear. This was simultaneously so shocking and so arousing that Matt could hardly believe that he was already coming, pulsing hotly just from frotting on the ground with Andy.

Andy's grip was painful in his hair as Matt felt him jerk beneath him, a hoarse gasp with each quick shudder. Andy literally clung to him for a few moments, before his limbs relaxed and Matt was allowed to roll from atop him. He couldn't quite summon the energy to grimace over the stickiness in his clothes; he just lay there beside Andy, trying to get his breath back.

"Well." Andy took a few deep inhales. "So, are we going to spar like that all the time? It's really... _energetic_."

"I hope so." Matt tried to chuckle but all he could manage was a weak wheeze. "I mean, it's not that useful, but I guess we know how to fuck someone to death." He cackled breathlessly, even though Andy's mock-annoyed fist landed squarely on his shoulder.

*

Mix raced rapidly through the house, Joe in hot pursuit. He had one of Joe's shoes dangling from his mouth by a lace and he dodged Joe's grasping hands quite cheerfully.

"Damnit, Mix!" Joe yelled. "Dude, I am going out on the first date in like a fucking _year_ , no patrol, no vamps, no frigging _drama_ tonight, I need that shoe! That is my lucky shoe!"

Mix pranced away as Joe dived after him, huffing in delight. He watched as Joe popped up from where he had tumbled behind the sofa, glaring at Mix over the top of the comfortable seat. Mix put the shoe down on the ground very carefully, standing over his prize, daring Joe to come on over and try get it.

"Okay, Mix, here is what we're gonna do." Joe climbed slowly over the top of the sofa, sliding down the back of it to the seat and then to the floor, crawling on his hands and knees towards Mix, who ducked his head, still watching Joe carefully. Joe reached out one hand. "We're just going to take this," his hand touched the shoe and began pulling it away, "and we're just going to--"

Mix pounced on him and they rolled, yelling and barking. After an extended session in which Mix gave up playing and tried to groom his messy hair, Joe finally managed to struggle up.

"Well!" Joe exclaimed with injured dignity, the hair on one side of his head sticking up from Mix's ministrations, "if you'll _excuse me_."

Mix lay for a moment on the ground, panting as he watched Joe march off to his bedroom. He thought about going to pester Andy, but he was _meditating_ , whatever that meant. All he was doing was sitting still in the middle of the bedroom, breathing deeply and pushing Mix away when Mix wanted to snuggle close.

Patrick was out back somewhere and Mix went to find him. Patrick had become increasingly quiet over the past few days, not talking much to any of them. Mix had taken to invading his working-room whenever he could get Joe or Andy to open the door for him, padding in and curling up near the end of the long, tall table. He made no noise and Patrick gave no indication of even noticing his entry, but after the first time, Mix had found a large comfortable cushion placed right in the spot from where he had chosen to guard Patrick.

Pete went around looking as if he was on the brink of bursting. He stared at Patrick constantly, but Mix suspected he was not fully aware of the strange duality existing in Patrick now. When he was inside his working-space, Patrick's actions were increasingly erratic: he would stop whatever he was doing and just wander off, staring out of a window as if plotting an escape from a cage. Then he would stumble and shake his head, coming back to his instruments and strong-smelling liquids.

Right now, Mix spotted him down the hall, locking the back-door and arming the security system before making his way slowly to his room. He moved like he had aged fifty years in a day, feet shuffling weakly and one hand pressed against the nearest wall for support. He stopped, shoulders going back and Mix saw that Pete had come up from his own dark cave, looking at Patrick with bleak eyes.

He said something, the timbre of the words urgent and pleading; Patrick shook his head and tried to move off, practically leaning against the wall now. Pete was right in front of him in a blur of movement. He lifted a hand and tried to touch the curve of Patrick's neck, but his fingers seemed to splay against a barrier that Mix could see in this form... just barely, but it was there. It looked frail and translucent, like a bubble, but it resisted Pete's touch when he tried to force his fingers close to Patrick's skin.

Pete sighed, letting his hand fall to his side; Matt heard the desolation in it but when he started to turn away, Patrick's pale hand came up slowly, cupping his cheek. Pete went absolutely still, his eyes wide as Patrick's thumb moved over his lower lip, tracing the shape of it with slow, considering strokes.

He said something else and Patrick shook his head again, murmuring in reply; Pete closed his eyes tightly.

"Look at me," Patrick said very slowly, his voice rusty, crackling and tearing at the edges. "Pete, look at me." When Pete's eyelids snapped open obediently, Patrick said, "I'm sorry," and leaned forward, pressing his mouth against Pete's, a gentle, sweet touch.

Patrick pulled back; when Pete tried to initiate a deeper kiss, he only met with that bubble and made a noise of dismay and regret. Patrick gave him a smile, ghastly in its strange mixture of emotion and then continued on his agonized path to his own rooms. He didn't reject the hovering hand Pete placed near his elbow, but when he reached his room-door, the one directly across the hall from Pete's, he closed it firmly in Pete's face.

Pete stood there for a moment and Mix walked over to him, pressing against the side of his leg; Pete didn't seem to notice him standing there, until his hand reached down to rub Mix between the ears.

"He's dying," Pete said, almost wonderingly. Mix didn't understand, so he pressed even closer. "That fucker is letting him _die_."

Pete moved away so suddenly that Mix nearly fell, heading for the front door so fast that Mix could hardly keep up with him. He realised that Andy had finally come out from his meditation, calling for him, but he was already outside with Pete. He gave a sharp huffing bark, a reassuring response, but did not turn back. The front-door slammed and armed itself with a series of satisfied beeps; by this time, he was jumping into the car as soon as Pete opened the door, moving over to the other side and waiting for Pete to open the window when he let the powerful engine roar to a start.

Pete's hands were clenched around the steering-wheel as he waited for the big gates to glide open on their tracks; Mix could hear it groan softly under the pressure of his fingers; any tighter and he would break it. The wheels squealed as Pete sped out onto the road, the sound of it drilling in Mix's ears. He withstood this minor ache and Pete finally let down the window for him so that he could stick his head out. Where they were going, Mix had no idea, but he thought he should be with Pete in case anything went down. At least he could have a fine time getting there, enjoying the breeze flowing against his face.

The skin on Pete's face was drawn tightly as he forced the car at its highest speed through the night and Mix understood that he was barely holding back rage and despair. Was he going to find the alpha-vampire and kill him? Mix could show him the way, if he only asked; but if he hurt the alpha-vampire that was now Patrick's mate, he just might hurt Patrick; maybe not physically, but _some_ fundamental damage would occur. Mix was just about to let Matt through so that he could explain this to Pete with human words, when he noticed that they were already coming to stop, in front of a house as fortified as their own pack-home.

Pete pulled up in front of a tall, wrought-iron fence. Unlike their home, which had a high, solid gate that could not be seen through, Mix could look past the narrow gaps and inspect the low, darkened house beyond. The same warm wavy lines that served as howling alarms for their pack-home were in existence here as well, crisscrossing the large yard in a protective web. Pete reached out to a flat box mounted on a short, metal pole.

"What do you want, Pete?" a bored voice came from the box as soon as he released the button he had been pressing.

"I'm here for Mikey," Pete responded, voice taut. "Let me in, Bob."

Mikey Way! Mix wanted to yip in delight, because Mikey Way and Frankie were _goodhappyfun_ , but Pete's face was far too harsh; he probably wouldn't appreciate it.

"Pete, why the hell do you--"

"Bob, I do _not_ have time for dicking around," Pete snapped. "I need to talk to Mikey, let me in."

"For fuck's sake," Bob breathed, his voice tinny and disgusted as it came out of the communicating-box, but the wavy lines suddenly winked out and the gate began to pull open quickly in two large wings. Lights blazed on as Pete drove up to the house and the door pulled open.

Mikey Way's older sibling, the pack-alpha of this unit, stood just inside, his eyes narrowed as Pete and Mix got out and approached him.

"Pete, I thought you guys were off patrol-duty for tonight," Gerard said, watching as Frankie rushed past him to greet Mix, who licked his face and snuffled his neck happily when Frankie hugged him. A small smile touched the corner of his mouth, elicited mostly due to Frankie's pleased chortling; Mix approached him carefully. This pack-alpha was not as outwardly friendly as Mikey and Frankie, but he still held out a hand for Mix to sniff. He smelled like charred wood and... _paper_ , a strange but not unpleasant combination.

"We are. But I need Mikey's help right now."

"Why?" A young woman was standing inside the house, her hand perched on the banister of a staircase. She was staring at Pete with cautious curiosity, which deepened in her dark eyes when her gaze switched to Mix. "What do you need him for, Pete? And that is one _huge_ dog."

"That's a wolf, Alicia." Mikey Way was descending the staircase, touching the woman on her small hand as he passed. Mix was very pleased at this; this woman was Mikey's mate and she was very defensive over him. That was excellent; mates should be protective of each other. Andy wanted to protect him too, he told him so, and this made Matt feel content, because that meant Andy was alright with the idea of being The Mate.

"Actually, that's the werewolf I was telling you about, remember?" Mikey continued, and her eyes widened.

"Oh!" She smiled at him and Mikey looked up at the alpha, who nodded at him, giving him permission to enter the pack-home. He trotted up to her, allowing her to touch him on his head and rub him along his back. _Ahh_ , that was just fine, she had good rubbing hands; not as good or as comforting as Andy, but not bad at all. The other Slayers in Gerard's pack were appearing as Mikey spoke to Pete in low tones, staring down at Mix; he peered up at them through half-shut eyes, already flopped bonelessly onto the ground, charming Alicia into kneeling down and giving him a full rub-down on his side.

"I'll go with you, Pete." Mikey's voice was low, but unwavering. "I don't know how much I can help, though."

"I just need you to try," Pete said, and Mikey smiled a little at the grateful pitch of his voice. "I don't know who else can help."

"Frankie, Bob and I, we're coming along too," Gerard decided immediately. Mikey rolled his eyes, but did not say anything contrary to this declaration.

"That's fine with me," Bob rumbled, glaring at Pete, who simply spun on his heel and walked to the car. Mix got to his feet and made his goodbyes to Mikey's mate, laying his head companionably on her shoulder. She laughed and patted him on the back. He liked her; maybe he could come back with Andy and show off his own mate.

They were followed by Gerard's nondescript vehicle through streets that seemed too calm and quiet; when they were allowed re-entry back into their pack-home, Mix was looking around guardedly. There was simply a deadened atmosphere, even the light from the street-lamps seemed flat and listless. He spent so much time sniffing the air when he came out of the vehicle that Joe had to call him in when everyone else was already trooped inside.

"I know, I know," Joe sighed as Mix padded past him, looking into his face curiously. "I mean, it's not like the first time I stood up some date, but... yeah, apparently I _need_ the drama in my life."

Mix heard the wry humour in his voice and nipped him on the knee playfully before making his way to where Andy was leading Patrick out to the wide living area, helping him settle into a worn yet comfortable armchair. Patrick looked small and frail in its overstuffed glory.

Mikey dragged up the low coffee-table and perched on the end of it, right in front of Patrick. "Hey," he said and Patrick's dispassionate gaze flickered from his face to Pete's, who was standing behind the couch. Patrick looked back at Mikey, and gave a single jerk of his chin.

Mikey reached into his jeans-pocket and pulled out his pick. Andy sat on the floor next to Mix, placing one hand on his jaw and pressing his face away.

"Don't look at his hands, he'll put you under too," he whispered into Mix's perked-up ear and Mix complied, quickly grasping what Andy was trying to tell him. He curled up on his side against Andy and heard the peaceful murmur of Mikey's voice, punctuated by Patrick's slow responses.

"Okay, Patrick. Now that you've found it, I want you to try and break it," Mikey was saying now, the placid words only barely covering the commanding tone. Mix shivered against his will.

"I... can't."

Out of the corner of his eye, Mix caught the restless shift of Pete's feet and looked up, smelling the unease flood out of him. Gerard and his pack-members were standing off to one side, listening to the proceedings closely.

"Try harder, Patrick. You just need to hold onto it and _snap_ it, I can help you."

"I _can't_."

"You can't? Or you won't?"

"Both," Patrick returned after a long pause. Mere moments after he said this, a cold, dry scent assailed Mix's nose. He jumped to his feet, a growl rumbling past his bared teeth: vampires, _lots_ of them, were approaching their den at a great pace.

Two _different_ packs of vampires. One he recognized fairly easily, he associated their scent with betrayal.... ah yes, the vampire-clan his former pack-mates had tried to join with when they had flung their own family into a state of almost complete disrepair. _Beckett's_ clan; what the fuck?

The scent of the other pack was unmistakable; after all, he had tracked it just a few days ago.

Patrick simply intoned in his dreaming voice, " _Travis_. He's here for me."


	9. Excitement

At Patrick's soft tone, a thread of hushed delight running through the disquieting words, Mix picked up a drastic change to Pete's scent: it went straight from unease to a hardened kind of battle-readiness, a steel core of destruction bolstering it.

"Put him right under, Mikey. All the way," he said as the present members of both his and Gerard's unit began to gear up; Andy got up and strode quickly in the direction of the War Room with Joe.

Mikey nodded. "Okay, Pete." He exhaled slowly and reached out his hand, placing a long finger on Patrick's forehead, right between his eyebrows. Patrick's gaze, which had been fixed on the main door as if he could see straight through the heavy wood, slid back to lock onto Mikey's strained expression. "Patrick, I need you to go quiet. Go deep and quiet, and don't come up back until I tell you to."

"No," Patrick murmured, shifting forward a little as if he was getting ready to rise to his feet. Andy and Joe returned; Andy was whirling a sword quickly and Mix got to his feet, padding over to his side and eyeing the flickering weapon. Andy had retrieved the weapon passed onto him by his teacher. Obviously, they meant serious business.

"Patrick, _please_."

" _No_ ," Patrick opposed stubbornly, gripping the overstuffed arms of his chair and trying to pull himself up. "No, Travis is _here_ , I need to--"

"I'm so sorry, Patrick. Go all the way back, _now_." Mikey rotated his wrist as if he was turning a key, his finger corkscrewing against the skin of Patrick's forehead. Patrick squeezed his eyes shut and made a soft, breathless sound before flopping back against the armchair, limp and silent. Mikey kept his hand in the same position for a few long moments, and then removed it with what seemed to be a great effort, breathing harshly through his nose. His hand was shaking.

"I locked him under, Pete," he finally muttered, placing his pick back in his pocket and then rubbing his hands together. "But I don't know how long he'll _stay_ there." Even as he said this, Patrick muttered something under his breath and tried to move his head, twitching a bit.

Pete's lips were a thin line in his face. "That's fine, Mikey. This isn't going to take long, anyway." He held out a hand and Joe threw a tight bundle of stakes at him. Catching it neatly, he slung it over his back and strode to the door.

Mikey said, "Be careful, Pete." He looked closely at Patrick, who was stirring again, acting like a prize-fighter who just wasn't going to stay down for the count. "That bond that's there, it's too strong. I can't lock him down again after this, it won't do any good." He paused and then took a deep breath. "I think if you... if you stake McCoy, it'll just shatter Patrick's mind."

Pete was at the door, waiting while Joe disarmed the security system for the front gate, and began the complex code to activate all the perilous traps that were littered in the front yard, since the back ones were always set. Pete turned his head; the smile he gave Mikey was as sharp as the edge of a bloodied knife.

"I guess I'm just going to have to _persuade_ him to let Patrick go, right?"

Mikey looked far from convinced at this, but said nothing as the two units strode out, leaving him and a struggling Patrick behind. The door slammed and armed itself; as long as Patrick and Mikey stayed inside, no enemy-vampire would be able to enter. As a matter of fact, the traps would take care of them before they even thought about approaching the door. They were safe there.

Pete and Joe were picking their way towards the front gate, Joe showing where they should place their feet as to not set off the sensitive traps. Gerard, Bob and Frankie were right behind them; Frankie was loading all his guns quickly, squinting into the barrels before snapping them shut.

Mix trotted beside and slightly ahead of Andy as they brought up the rear; they already knew just were to step to avoid the traps, all the residents of their pack-home had been subject to Joe's painstaking instructions. Mix wanted to send his mate back, to put him in the secure den, but Andy would refuse. He glanced back at the pack-home and saw Mikey watching them carefully through a drawn-up shutter. A cool breeze began to stir the dry grass as the gates pulled open, revealing a strange tableau in the street outside their pack-home. Mix could hear someone yelling shrilly and his lips curled back from his teeth at the sound. He hoped there were no humans foolish enough to pass through these tense streets at this time of the night, but humans sometimes had a fondness for being at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Vampires, a shockingly large crowd of them, were standing out there; most of them were as still as statues, but instead of looking towards the approaching Slayers, there were two distinctive groups of them facing each other. Beckett's clan was closer, their cars strewn across the road. McCoy's pack appeared to be blocked by them.

Beckett was in the middle of the street, pointing furiously at McCoy, who was leaning against the side of one of his clan's sleek cars as if he was watching a casual street-race; Mix remembered Beckett's tall, slender form and strangely charming face, which almost fooled him completely when he had first arrived to investigate his former pack-mates' treachery; right now, however, that attractiveness was twisted into a hateful snarl. His long, dark cloak fluttered back from his frame in the quickening night-wind.

"You're out of your damned mind if you think I will ever allow this!" he was screaming at McCoy, who pushed off his car with his hip as soon as he saw the Slayers exit, positioning themselves in a woefully open line of defense in front of the tall gates. Beckett must have known they were there, but he ignored them completely, continuing his rant at McCoy. "You thought I wouldn't have found out and _do_ something about it, didn't you? Obviously, you feel that you can just _defy_ all of our rules and just take a _Slayer_ into a _bond_! What the fuck are you _on_?"

McCoy stepped forward, arms folded against his chest. Mix could pick up the determination peeling from him... that and a desperate urge to be near Patrick. "I don't need any fucking approval from _your_ House anymore, Beckett," he said in a raised voice and this seemed to disgust the other alpha-vampire; his glare became ever more malevolent as he stared at McCoy. "I'm the head of my own clan now and if you want to throw down over this, be my guest. But I'm here to take Red home."

"I think we might have something to say against _that_ ," Pete called out and Beckett turned to sneer at him.

"Fuck off, _Slayer_ ," he spat. "Keep your traitor self out of our business. You belong to no vampire-clan. You have no standing here."

"I got a clan here that's ready to stake your ass," Pete said conversationally. "Ready for it?"

Beckett laughed nastily at this statement. He flicked the fingers of one hand in the direction of his pack-members, who instantly began to move, some gliding in their direction, most of them stalking towards McCoy's clan. McCoy's pack-mates slid out from where they had been lounging in their cars, standing alongside their alpha in a veritable wall of fangs and gleaming eyes.

"I will take all you say you love," Beckett promised with malicious glee and his own people loped with quiet rapidity towards their targets. "And turn it to blood and bone and dust."

*

The sound of battle was almost unbearable to Mix's sensitive ears; some of it was his own guttural barks and howls. Highers were more clever and faster than Lessers, but Mix was managing to keep up as they charged him and the Slayers. He could hear Beckett's laughter, a high-pitched cackle that seemed to float above all the other yells and explosions; every hackle Mix had rose to spiky points at the sound.

He dodged and leapt, taking down one after the other, moving fast enough so that they wouldn't have time to catch him and saw that Andy was fighting his way towards Beckett, who watched him approach with a huge smile. Frankie and Gerard were standing almost back to back, Frankie aiming and firing while Gerard's hands snapped quickly, metallic objects glinting from his hands. Mix didn't know what these were, and they moved too fast for him to track them before they lodged in the flesh of the vampires; but _Matt_ knew. The words _stars_ and _shuriken_ floated up through Mix's wolf-mind from the current internal core of Matt's psyche. Mix still didn't get it, but Matt seemed thrilled over Gerard's weapons of choice, so that was alright.

Pete had already cut a vicious swath right through the melee to McCoy, and they were having the hugest brawl on the street. Mix yipped in concern as McCoy grabbed Pete and _flung_ him away; he went crashing into the side of a car, almost crumpling the metal right in to the other side. Pete snarled and clambered out of the crushed vehicle, launching himself at McCoy again.

There was a thick, snapping sound and several vampires dropped at once. Mix jumped lightly over a few and saw Bob wielding an astounding thing: _crossbow_ , his Matt-mind helpfully supplied again, but that wasn't quite right. For one thing, Bob was reloading many sharpened stakes into it now, instead of just one. He fired again and stakes went shooting out along a wide horizontal arc, spreading away from each other; Mix hoped that he was aiming properly and not putting his pack-mates in harm's way. Joe had resorted to bashing his attackers away with the stock of his gun, grabbing one of Bob's stakes out of a fallen vampire and stabbing out grimly.

Mix charged over to assist him. Dimly, he could hear the wail of sirens and hoped they weren't coming to this part of town at that moment. Without a doubt, they would be under Beckett's control and they seriously didn't need that right now. He dimly understood that the issue of Patrick and McCoy was simply an excuse for Beckett to exert his particular brand of mad control; he also understood that McCoy just wasn't going to take it.

"Get 'em, Mix!" Joe cheered as he went on his back-legs and grappled with a vampire. He towered over the vampire, who tried to struggle away, but Mix dragged him down and hung onto the back of his neck ferociously. He felt bones crack underneath his strong teeth; Matt felt a little ill at this but Mix was ready to howl in triumph.

"Fuck, yeah!" Joe cried and Mix scrambled over the limp body of the vampire, running alongside him as he dashed towards Pete and McCoy.

He came to a halt so fast that his legs scrambled on the hard-top. Off to his left he could see Andy reaching out with his sword to slice at Beckett, and actually succeeded in opening a long gash in his dark cloak and the skin beneath. Beckett bared his teeth at Andy, and then snapped out a long arm to pluck one of Bob's stakes out of the air as it spun past him. It was such an elegant maneuver that Mix's Matt-mind was impressed in spite of himself.

Then Beckett raised his hand and stabbed downwards at Andy's chest. Andy snapped back his left shoulder, trying to avoid the point of it sinking into his heart, but Beckett lunged forward again, thrusting it right below his collarbone.

Mix's entire frame began to shake as Beckett pressed his hand flat against Andy's chest and yanked the weapon out of his mate's body, the blood slick-red against the wood. Beckett laughed out loud as Andy stumbled back, fending off a fresh wave of Beckett's vampires with his right-hand sword; he had dropped the left-hand one, his teacher's sword, when the stake had pierced him. Mix could hear him grunt in pain when a vampire clutched him right on his damaged shoulder. Mix was rooted to the ground, seemingly unable to move; it was all happening _too fast_ and a red haze was descending over his vision; he continued to shudder, as if beleaguered by a strong fever.

Beckett canted his arm back and then launched the stake in the direction of the now unguarded gate, cackling jubilantly.

In an instant, Mix heard a shocked cry of pain, but it was coming from _behind_ him. He whirled in the direction where Pete and McCoy had been battling; McCoy was now clutching at his stomach, grimacing in agony. Mix stared as he dropped to his knees, arms wrapped around his mid-section and retching in dry, heaving gasps. Members of his pack thronged protectively around him, clawing out at Pete, who had to scramble back from their anger even as he gazed suspiciously at McCoy's bent head. Mix could literally see what he was thinking: none of his strikes, painful as they were, should have elicited such an intense reaction.

Mix smelled more fresh wounds and snapped his head around again.

Patrick was there.

Patrick, who was _supposed_ to be safe inside, was standing just outside the gate and looking down himself as if idly inspecting his shoes. The sharpened wooden stake that Beckett had thrown was jutting from his stomach; around it, blood began to bloom in a red that was dreadfully vivid against the whiteness of his shirt. Mikey was right beside him, shouting and grabbing at Patrick's shoulder as he swayed.

Patrick looked up slowly, staring at nothing at all; a thin trickle of blood slipped down from his nose. He went to his knees on the sidewalk and would have fallen on his side, if Mikey had not been there to catch him.

At almost the same moment, Mix heard Andy's voice raised in pained wrath. He was being pulled down by the screeching horde of vampires and Beckett was laughing and laughing.

 _No_! The soaring horror of his human side entwined with the growing blood-rage of the wolf, fueling it until the red haze had almost entirely obscured his sight. Without hesitation, that part that was known as _Matt_ and was mainly the peace-loving element of the wolf, surrendered all control to Mix.

The wolf went berserk.


	10. Joy

The wolf was conscious of very little right now.

It knew only screaming and howling and fury. Bones cracked between its teeth; flesh tore beneath its claws. Vampires scrambled away from him, but it was upon them in seconds, complete destruction its only intent.

It was only vaguely aware that its human-mind, the only part capable of stopping this madness right now, was mentally standing aside, letting the rage rush through his bones and skin and fur. The Matt-mind had simmered right down to a kind of terrible coldness, simply observing the fiery devastation that the wolf was currently inflicting.

Its mate was down. A beloved pack-member was _dead_ , or very close to it. It rushed after the one who had caused this damage and this vampire moved _fast_ ; if the wolf hadn't been going berserk, the alpha-vampire would have eluded him quite easily. But this was a werewolf caught up in an uncontrollable state and the vampire took only a few steps back before the wolf seized his ankle between his teeth and gave it a mighty twist to one side.

The vampire's scream was so loud and high that it beat with painful echoes into the wolf's ears. There were hands and claws clutching into the haunches of the wolf, pulling him off, but it kept its powerful jaws locked onto the captured leg, thrashing its head wildly and feeling sinew and bone begin to part.

The vampire struck at its head and the blows rocked the wolf. It released the captured foot and crouched to leap at the vampire, to take his neck between its teeth and bring his body down to ravage. Pack-members of this alpha-vampire dove in front of him, effectively blocking the wolf. No matter; he would deal with them now and then make sure to kill that alpha.

It ripped its way through that protective wall of vampires, but when he finished, the alpha was gone. _Escaped_! Mix howled in bloodthirsty fury and began to stalk off in the direction of the injured vampire's scent.

"Mix."

Someone was calling its name and Mix spun around, sharp teeth bared, ready to bite and slash and shred. There was a human kneeling on the ground, their head bowed, not looking him in the eye. Passive... calm.

His Matt-consciousness came forward quickly at the pleasant and familiar scent of this human, lovely even under the metallic tinge of blood. The chill of his detached thoughts touched that hot anger of the wolf, cooling it in gradual waves. Mix stood there panting heavily, gazing at the kneeling human.

It was the mate. Mix stared at him for what seemed to be a long moment; the mate did not move. There were vampires gasping and dying all around them, but the mate remained very still. The wound in the mate's shoulder was horrific for it to look at and the wolf began to panic again, its anger ramping up quickly towards another blood-rage.

This time, instead of letting it happen, the Matt-mind began to rein it all in, struggling for control. Mix fought this for a moment; _no_ , it wanted go after that alpha and shred him to very small pieces and maybe _piss_ on those small pieces before destroying the rest of the clan.

 _That would be nice_ , the Matt-mind agreed. _But Andy is hurt now. Don't leave him. That fucking alpha will have to wait._

The haze of the blood-rage began to slip away from Mix's vision. Andy's eyes were closed and he now had his right hand clutched over the wound. Nevertheless, his placid posture seemed to assist in calming the wolf even further.

"It's me, Mix," Andy said in a surprisingly strong voice. Mix approached him and pressed at his cheek, wanting him to look up. Andy's hand petted hesitantly at his bloody muzzle. "Mix?"

Under his hand, the fur of the wolf retreated into the skin of Matt's cheek, the strong limbs of the wolf lengthening. As usual, Matt was naked as the day his was born, but he paid no attention to that as he put his arms around Andy's waist and cautiously helped him up. He wiped hurriedly at his own face, grimacing at the gore there. It was _awful_. A species of shocked silence had fallen around them, the adrenaline seeping out of Matt's body and leaving him with an exhaustion that seemed to gnaw at his bones.

Most of Beckett's vampires, at least the ones that had managed to scurry away from the wolf, were long gone with their injured pack-leader. McCoy's clan was still there, huddled around their alpha protectively. They stared at them as Matt gave them a tired glance; their eyes were wide and shocked, or as shocked as a vampire could get, obviously due to what they had seen Mix do. Yet, they remained near their alpha, tense and ready if Mix decided to go on the rampage again. Matt put them out of his mind; they had made no move to hurt Andy, so they could be disregarded for now.

"It's not that bad. It's deep but it's not too bad," Andy whispered and Matt made sure he was standing steady before bending down to rip a shirt from around a vampire's prone body. He tore it into thinner strips, wrapping and knotting them tightly around Andy's shoulder.

"They bite you?" Matt checked his neck and arms, seeing only long gashes from their clawed hands.

Andy shook his head slowly. "You should have seen Mix," he murmured as Matt glanced around swiftly and located a long leather coat; it was super easy to find, since most vampires liked to parade around in them. He divested it from its dead owner and wrapped it around himself, tying it loosely and pulled Andy gently back into the circle of his arms. Andy leaned against him, a rare show of complete dependence as his forehead pressed hotly against the bony curve of Matt's collarbone. "It was some scary shit."

"It's okay, don't talk, man," Matt muttered back, finally taking a good look at the ruined bodies around him; after a few moments of this, he looked away, sickened. It had been necessary, he supposed, but he hadn't realized the amount of brutality he was capable of. Andy's arms were slung about his own waist and they tightened around him reassuringly. Matt pressed his mouth against the wild brown hair and breathed in deep.

A sound was coming from the direction of the house and Matt stood there with his arms full of Andy's slender frame, puzzling it out. In a moment, he realised the sound was someone _wailing_.

Pete was kneeling right next to Patrick prone body; he was trying to touch Patrick, but the defensive bubble kept pushing his hands away. Matt had an idea that Pete didn't even know he was making that anguished, terrified sound, which choked off when Patrick coughed and blood spattered out of his mouth.

"How?" Matt whispered, cutting his eyes away. It was unbearable to see. "How could Beckett _do_ that?"

Andy shuddered in his arms. "Beckett... he's a stronger vampire," he finally managed. "I think he's the one that turned McCoy so... I don't know. I guess he could have broken McCoy's protection if he really tried hard." He pressed his face into Matt's chest. "Let's hope Mix really fucked him up."

"Oh, Jesus." Matt stood there, not wanting to go closer. He didn't want to watch Patrick die, which he was doing very slowly, struggling to hold on. He could see Patrick's eyelids fluttering open and close, the way his pale hand twitched weakly against the gritty grey surface of the sidewalk. Matt closed his eyes and his hearing reluctantly focused on Patrick's heartbeat; every _thump_ was taking a slightly longer time to occur than the last. Very soon, there would be an extended moment where Matt would be waiting for the sound of another beat and it just would not be there.

He was dying on the dirty sidewalk right outside their home.

Gerard's unit was standing next to them, gazing down at them. Frankie had one hand over his mouth; even Bob's stony face had a sorrowful cast to it. Joe and Mikey were on their knees beside Pete, hanging onto him even as Pete pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes.

Pete shook them off and said something, his voice rasping over the words. Joe blinked at him and started to shake his head, but Pete pleaded, "Just do it, Joe, because I _can't_ ," and Joe closed his eyes for a moment. Then he reached out, grasped the stake, and pulled it.

The thick sound it made coming out was horrendous; Patrick breathed out, a long rattling exhale. Matt could have sworn it was his last, for there was blood _cascading_ out of his stomach, but of course Patrick would be stubborn to the very end. His chest continued to move rapidly and his eyes were open again, fixed on Pete's face. His lips were moving, and he looked like he was trying to explain something to Pete, but there was nothing coming out.

Matt heard Pete say in a quietly determined voice, "Take him up, Bob, and follow me."

Bob gave his crossbow to Gerard and knelt; with Joe and Mikey's help, he managed to lift Patrick and walk behind Pete. They headed towards McCoy's clan, which parted silently for them.

Matt couldn't see anything for a moment, only when Bob bent down and let Patrick slide slowly out of his grip, blood staining his arms and clothes; the crowd finally shifted enough for him to get a clear view: McCoy and Pete were kneeling in front of each other, Patrick cradled in McCoy's arms like a small child who had fallen asleep in the middle of a bedtime story. McCoy pressed his face against Patrick's cheek, his shoulders shaking.

"Not like this." Pete sounded broken, but there was a strange clarity to his voice. "He's... he's _yours_ , McCoy. Don't let him die like this."

"If I do it this way, it might not work." McCoy's voice was low, Matt could barely hear him. "He's too far--"

"Try.... _please_."

McCoy put out his left hand very slowly to Pete, keeping his other arm as a support for Patrick's drooping head. Pete gave it a long stare before grasping the wrist and pressing his fingers into the smooth brown skin. Thin blood welled up from sharp half-moons where he pierced McCoy's flesh; then Pete looked away as McCoy pressed his wrist to Patrick's parted lips.

Matt closed his eyes again and listened very carefully.

He heard Andy's pained breathing, so very close.

Further away, he heard Pete whispering, _come back_ , and McCoy's imploring _come on Red, drink_.

He knew the moment when Patrick's heart, that brave fighting rhythm, slowed down and then simply stopped.

His grip tightened around Andy, who clung to him just as desperately.

"I'm so _thirsty_ ," Patrick murmured in a tiny, tired voice and Matt's eyes flew open.

*

Patrick had tucked his face into McCoy's neck, still asking for something to drink, _anything_ to drink, even a damned Mr. Pibb, as the wound in his stomach began to repair itself. This was one of the greatest strengths of a vampire, everybody knew _that_ , but it was still amazing to see the bits of damaged skin knitting slowly together, leaving a smooth, pale surface under the ragged edges of his bloody shirt.

"I know, Red, I know," McCoy was soothing, rocking Patrick gently. He stared up at Pete, a small joyous smile beginning to bloom on his face. "He... he has to feed. You know it'll help him heal faster."

Joe said, "I'll do it," and pulled his collar to one side without hesitation, kneeling to lean close. Patrick turned to stare at him, his face a picture of great reluctance and a greater need. He put his arm very slowly and then wrapped it around Joe's neck, tugging him forward.

"Patrick," Pete said, putting a restraining hand on Patrick's. "Don't turn Joe. Understand?"

"Don't take too much, Red," McCoy agreed. "Just a little for now."

Matt noted that they were speaking in patient, calming tones. It seemed as if they were treating Patrick like a small child and Matt supposed that in a way, he _was_ , another vampire newly born. A Higher, turned by another Higher. Patrick looked from one concerned face to the other with large, speculative eyes and then nodded.

"Joe... is my friend," he said slowly, as if recalling some dim memory. He nodded again. "I would never do that to a friend."

"That's good to know," Joe said and winced when Patrick bit him. Matt could see when he stopped from pulling out of Patrick's grip, forcing himself to stay still. Pete's fingers ran through Patrick's hair after a moment as Patrick fed. The bubble had now completely dissipated and it seemed that Pete couldn't stop touching him, stroking against his cheek and down his neck. McCoy was studying Pete's face with a considering expression.

"That's enough," Pete breathed out at last and Patrick drew back, licking his lips. Matt could just see the sharp edges of the two long canines.

"Thank you," Patrick said to Joe, almost shyly, the look incongruous with the dangerous teeth. Patrick frowned a moment, then the teeth retracted. Joe rubbed at his neck, making a pained face. "I'm sorry--"

"It's all good, Patrick," Joe said and lunged forward, hugging him tightly, nearly smacking McCoy right across the face. The vampire clan murmured but McCoy's raised hand quieted them. "Fuck, man. It's _always_ good."

Matt wanted to march over there and hug Patrick until he bitched about it, but the wolf refused to, at least not yet. Patrick's scent was changed; it was still essentially the same, but Mix was picking up _vampire_ with it, and was confused and unhappy about that. It had taken him a long time to really trust _Pete_ when they had first met, and he worried that it would be the same situation with Patrick now. Still, he smiled slightly when Patrick struggled to his feet, pushing McCoy's and Pete's hands away when they tried to help; when he swayed a little, though, he didn't refuse McCoy's steadying arm around his waist.

He looked down at Andy, who was observing intently as McCoy took Patrick's face in his hands, his gaze soft and grateful. Patrick touched his cheek almost wonderingly.

"You okay?" Matt whispered and Andy tilted his own face up, staring at him.

"Yeah." He smiled faintly and then turned his head to give Matt's shoulder a quick kiss which seemed to warm his entire body. He leaned even more heavily against Matt. "I'm alright, I just need some patching up."

"What happens after this, Pete?" Gerard called out, his eyes narrowed at Patrick and McCoy. Pete lifted one shoulder in a quick shrug; he was gazing off into the distance even as McCoy spoke gently to Patrick, the tone of it deeply apologetic and Patrick responded with a sweet smile.

"Red... _Patrick_ is now my closest kin," McCoy replied instead, still looking in Patrick's face as if nothing else in the world existed. "His people are my people."

"Yeah, right," Bob muttered and Frankie elbowed him in the side. McCoy's face continued to be peaceful.

"It's true, man." He and Patrick suddenly shared a sunny grin, as if they had both heard the same awesome joke. Pete turned on his heel, motioning with his head to his own unit, trudging towards their home.

"Wait!" Patrick slipped out of McCoy's arms, hurrying after him. Pete turned back, catching him in a tight embrace. Pete held onto him for a long time, one hand entwined in Patrick's hair, the other gripping him around his back tightly.

"I guess you have to go with your clan now," he finally muttered against Patrick's neck. He unwound his hand from Patrick's hair and pushed him away; Patrick's eyes were fixed on his back as he walked away. He glanced at Matt, his expression stricken. Matt nodded at him, and made sure his smile was filled with all the encouragement he could muster right now. Patrick's shoulders straightened and he nodded back.

"Remember your family, Patrick," Andy called out as McCoy stepped forward and took Patrick's hand, leading him towards the silent throng of their clan. Patrick looked over his shoulder at them, eyes preternaturally bright.

"I won't ever forget."

*

Mix sat in front of Pete's door, whining.

"I'm fine, Mix," Pete called out resignedly. "I just... Tomorrow, Mix. The sun is almost up, I just want to go to sleep."

Mix pawed at the door. He had come to let Matt tuck Pete in, but the door was already locked. When he had convinced Joe to try and open it for him, they had discovered that Pete had put on a general block on his security panel.

"I guess we'll have to wait until he's ready to come out," Joe had advised. "Don't worry, Mix. It's hard for all of us, but we'll make it." He smiled down at Mix's anxious face. "We always do."

Mix still waited for a long time after Joe had gone to sleep, even when the sun rose and Pete would surely be locked in the mourning dark of the crypt. He finally slunk away, walking silently into Patrick's lab. The lights were all off, the shutters pulled against the brightening day. He snuffled at the large pillow Patrick had placed on the floor for him and walked out with his head downcast.

He transformed in front of Andy's door and opened it, slipping in and opening a drawer to pull out one of his shorts.

Andy was lying on his back on the bed, his shoulder swathed with fresh, clean white strips of gauzy cloth. Matt had watched keenly when Joe cleaned and dressed his wound, years of battle giving him the expertise. No bones were broken, but Matt was going to drag him to a discrete surgeon that all the Slayers used, just to be sure. If Andy made a fuss, he was going to carry him in a _basket_ , if that's what it took.

The sunlight was falling through the blinds in bright lines across his chest, highlighting the tattoos and the pale skin. It turned Andy's hair from that brown shade it normally had in the dark, to a rich russet. Matt could not stop staring at him.

He was thinking about Pete; how he had obviously felt _something_ for Patrick, but assumed that it was common knowledge, that Patrick would always be his. He crept into bed, snuggling against Andy, who shifted as he woke up.

"Matt," Andy said in a groggy voice and moved gingerly, favouring his left shoulder, so that Matt could put an arm around him. He rested his head on Matt's shoulder and exhaled in a mixture of exhaustion, sadness and contentment. "Hey, where were you?"

"I'm in love with you," Matt answered plainly; there was a long silence and Andy raised his head, blinking with surprise at Matt's earnest statement. "I love you, okay? I just want you to know that. I want you to be _sure_ you know that. I don't want any mystery about that in your head or anything, I don't want what happened last night--"

Andy put his hand over Matt's mouth, lips quirked up in a slight smile. "I know."

Matt took his hand by the wrist and pulled it from his mouth. "Ok. Just as long as you know. You don't have to say it back or anything, because I know how you roll: Andy Hurley, King of the One-Word Sentence."

"I love you," Andy said quietly and smiled. "That's _three_ words."

"Hey, you can _count_ , Hurley, so awesome." Matt felt giddy; probably a result of all the night's excitement, or it could be just the way Andy was smiling at him. Andy rolled over a bit and shuffled down so he could place his hands on Matt's chest, rest his chin on them and peer up at him.

"Is there a ritual that werewolves go through when they take a mate?" he asked, almost conversationally. "Just, like a public ceremony?"

Matt felt his mouth go dry. Andy's eyes were locked with his, giving nothing away as yet. He cleared his throat, heart thudding hopefully. "Sure, if they really want to. But it's not like human ones, it's just like: ' _hey, you want to be this werewolf's mate? Yeah... and you? Yeah. Done, let's eat_.'"

Andy mock-frowned at him. "Matt, I'm thinking that there's more to it than that."

Matt grinned. "Yeah, well, if you're going all out, you have to call all the pack-members together and pick the right time of the moon and exchange binding-symbols. Maybe some fine howling, all sorts of jazz. It's crazy." He squinted down at Andy. "But no tuxedos though, sorry about that."

Andy continued to look directly at him, his expression growing warm. "I figure I could deal with the lack of tuxes."

Matt breathed deeply; it was a little hard to, when joy was busy wreaking havoc inside of him. After the cutting loss of Patrick, it seemed he could get drunk on this particular sensation. "Whenever you're ready, man, whenever you're ready." He grinned a little harder. "Hey, you want to, right now? I know this place, we can go out and get new tats, it'll be awesome. Matching ink, dude, it only _sounds_ lame."

Andy rolled his eyes and moved to replace his head on Matt's shoulder, pushing his warm legs against Matt's. "I've been waiting for you for a long time," he muttered sleepily. "I think I can wait a little more."

"Okay," Matt whispered and tried not to hug him too hard... but it was a very close thing.

  
_fin_   


  


  
_"The timber wolves will be our friends._  
We'll stay up late and howl,  
At the moon, till nighttime ends,  
Before going on the prowl."  
-Bill Watterson  



End file.
